


One Heat Stand

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Series: Borrowed Womb Time Hop [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Power, Alternate Universe, BAMF Stiles, Betrayal, Childbirth, F/M, Gore, Knotting, M/M, Male Pregnancy, No Hale Fire, Omegaverse, Pack Dynamics, Peter is creepy, Politics, Racism, Sexism, stand alone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:29:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 40,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: When Derek first heard of an omega being placed in a position of power he was skeptical. Especially when his mother insisted he sign up to be one of several alphas to supply him with an heir without any parental rights. However, with the king on his deathbed there is a push for the throne Stiles is the Stewart of, and since Derek can't get his scent out of his nose he plans to get involved. (First push for equality!) 14th century Europe. STAND ALONE FIC
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Other(s)
Series: Borrowed Womb Time Hop [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615705
Comments: 12
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

Derek was the second born by a solid three minutes, making his sister Laura the heir to the throne of York. Of course, it was technically the heir to far more, their mother being the queen of York, often divided between Olde and New, but because of how long werewolves lived it was highly unlikely that she would ever inherit. Her future children would be next in line, as Talia's grandfather had been the king before her. The world was used to the every-other-generation system as it had been in place since the ancient civilizations had spread the Bite across so many nations. As was tradition, Laura was given a territory _far_ from her mother's to inherit and lead in order to maintain the peace and both Talia and Laura would prepare her children for eventual leadership.

Derek, as the spare heir, was given the task of being sexually promiscuous. That wasn't explicitly instructed, but it was heavily implied and he took his role very seriously. Should disaster ever strike his many bastard children would save their family, not that he ever intended to have any and he was _quite_ careful in that area. Still, there was no problem with practicing. Derek may have been a swashbuckler in image, but he was a family man at heart. He wanted to _raise_ his cubs... someday. In the _very_ distant future. Maybe in a century or so.

The younger Hale siblings were less fortunate. Third on down offspring were well known as those stuck at home, doomed to boredom in political careers as advisers, religious leaders, and those set to coral any minor disputes in distant fiefdoms. Their only hope of having anything fun happen to them was if something magical or adventurous stumbled across them, like a curse or omega who needed saving that they happened to see and fall madly in love with on sight. That usually only happened to the _youngest,_ who was currently still under the heel of his tutors, so Cora was decidedly cross about young Joseph getting the shot she lost when he was born.

Derek spent his time between his sister's dukedom in New York and his mother's up north in Olde York, philandering his way through the countryside where he was _most_ popular with beta milkmaids and the knights he loved to spar with in more ways than one. It was during one of his visits home to his mother, who doted on him still even though he was grown, that he was called up to a meeting. It was surprising to say the least. No one bothered with Derek for the most part. He'd finished with his tutors and been left to run amok. As long as his mother and sister knew vaguely where he was and he broke no major laws or hearts no one cared. He wondered on his way up if he'd managed to do the latter and would be roped into marriage. It was early for such things, although he did have thoughts of family in the distant future. It didn't terrify him, but he wanted more time to be free and play the fields and taverns.

Derek had been traveling, so he took the time to wash up and change into dust-free clothing before heading into his mother's estate rooms. She welcomed him in with a fond smile and a patronizing pat to his cheeks as if he were still young and playing in the orchard instead of other more fruitful gardens.

“Come in, darling. We'll talk over dinner about your journeys across the countryside, I do so want to hear about how the people are doing during the recent harvest, but for now there is business to attend to.”

“What business of the country involves me?” Derek wondered, “I'm happy to help of course. It isn't war, is it?”

“No, thank goodness, all is peaceful. Of course, the Argents make trouble, but they always do. You _are_ staying away from them, aren't you?”

“Yes, mother,” Derek rolled his eyes. He'd been warned away from them for years, but his brief dabble into alpha/alpha sex with Kate had been traumatizing and kept him well away from tasting that forbidden fruit again. He understood how another alpha could have some appeal, but it simply wasn't his desire. Especially not with a sadist like Kate who had a nasty habit of chewing alphas up and spitting them out with far more scars than they went in with.

The entire cabinet was assembled, and now Derek was nervous. His mother practically shoved him into a chair after he gave them a polite nod in greeting, and they all took slight bows before sitting as well and giving him very serious looks. Shit. He was being married off. _Fuck._

“Derek, there has been a rather shocking situation that has erupted in the nearby kingdom of Beacon,” Talia stated, folding her hands and turning towards him as if it was a private conversation in her study instead of a political one with her counselors all staring into his soul.

“What now?” Derek asked, then internally winced at his own tone. His mother ignored it. She tended to indulge him.

“As you are aware the queen there died young, the poor lovely woman. Claudia was a dear friend, and while King John and I were never as close we have maintained contact. They're human, if you recall?”

Derek nodded. He had heard of the last human kingdom in his travels. They kept much to themselves but traded with York, Asia, and the Argents in Silverdale amicably enough. Their borders weren't closed so much as unwelcoming to outsiders. They accepted tourism but discouraged immigration. Since there was peace there was no call for asylum, so their isolation had gone largely uncontested. Talia had been close to Lady Claudia from their days in court before Talia had ascended the throne. Claudia and King John had married young and had one child, but being human Claudia had died of a strange illness that had destroyed her mind. In the end John had forbade her visitors in order to guard her dignity. When she had died it was said that her son had screamed out his loss like a vixen in the night.

“Yes, the only human nation remaining, if I recall,” Derek agreed just to have something intelligent to say. This was all a bit intimidating.

“King John wrote to me a week ago,” Talia continued, “His son has emerged as an omega these past years and-”

“You told me I could choose my _own_ mate!” Derek sputtered.

Talia gave him a hard glare, “Assuming one doesn't show up with a full belly and a paternity claim on you that their father pushes, yes.”

“I'm careful,” Derek muttered, glancing aside and wishing they didn't have an audience.

“They aren't match makers, Derek,” She sighed, “This isn't about a political union. King John has, in effect, written in a new law to avoid his country being taken over by whoever mates with his omega son. Since he has no spare heir the Stilinski line would die, and he's desperate. Especially since his attempts to find a new mate have failed. They say his heart is broken beyond repair, but it would seem it is more than broken. It is damaged. Recently he collapsed during a festival and was in bed for months, pale and near death, before their healer managed to revive him enough to attend to court again.”

“He isn't making the _omega_ king?”Derek asked.

“In a sense. His people would never allow for such a thing, tradition being what it is, but now that his son is of age to attend Temple and be claimed he has written in a way to circumvent losing his throne. Mieczyslaw may become a _steward_ to his father's throne upon his father's death, effectively leading the people, _if_ and _only if_ he has an alpha heir to take over once they come of age.”

“How does that keep it the Stilinski name? Or change much of anything? His mate would be running the country. There's no way an alpha would allow him such free agency once the father passed.”

“That's the part where you come in,” Talia smiled broadly, “He's not going to allow anyone to _claim_ his son. Mieczyslaw's first heat as an adult is in one month, and he is asking that every willing and available alpha attend a ball to _breed_ him instead of sending him to Temple. Each alpha he chooses will get a chance to breed him over the course of his heat, with none knowing who the-”

“That's insane! They'll be at each other's throats!”

“A heavy guard will be present- with none knowing _who_ the resulting heir's other parent is. All alphas sign off their right to claim that child, or the omega, and the offspring will carry the Stilinski name. It's really rather genius.”

“So,” Derek's eyebrows drew together as he contemplated her words, “You're sending me to get an omega pregnant? Knowing I won't have access to the child he births? Mother, what royal alpha would agree to this? I mean, yes, I want to because... _an omega_. It's the best sex an alpha can have, but still, to know that I can't ever see or raise a Hale child! I could see why peasants would jump at this because raising children is expensive, but we're _rich_. If I want an omega that badly I'll just go to temple and be properly mated! Then I can have the benefit of an _heir!_ ”

Talia nodded, “It's true, it's unlikely to bring many of the upper crust, but therein lies the problem. Claudia was a dear friend of mine. I hate to think of her sweet young cub-”

“I remember him. He was _not_ sweet. He was a _menace.”_

“-having to bend over for _commoners_!”

Derek rolled his eyes. His mother was a _snob._ Derek spent his days- and nights- among those commoners. They were wonderful and he loved them all, even those he didn't bed. They had beautiful traditions, festivals, and the most rich arts he had ever seen. None of the stuffy things that graced the castle walls: these were alive in ways that moved him to tears. Besides, he doubted Mieczyslaw would be worried about who bedded him and then _left._ It would make no difference to him who they were or where they hailed from. The only point of the ball was to make sure they smelled good to him so his time with them wasn't awful.

“I'm asking you and several of your cousins to attend. I understand the Argents are sending two at least, and the Yukimura's are sending their daughter and apparently half their staff! The goal for so many is to see if they can worm in a closer alliance. The Stilinski's are so closed off that people are _sure_ there's something secretive going on there. Hidden wealth. That sort of thing.”

“You know otherwise?” Derek wondered.

Talia shook her head in amusement, “It's nothing so exciting. There's a reason I was never close to King John. He's prejudiced against werewolves. However, in this he has _finally_ bent. Young Mieczyslaw has convinced his father to make the mating werewolf _only._ Their line is threatened. John and Claudia were never meant to marry, but John claimed she was his soul mate and would have no other. The reasons his father had for demanding he choose another were well founded. Her family comes with a deadly illness, the very one that killed her, and the fear is that Mieczyslaw and his children will carry it. The young omega is hoping that by having werewolf heirs he will end the cursed illness from his mother's line.”

“Then why are the Argents there?”

Now it was Talia who rolled her eyes, “They hope to feed into John's prejudice. They will try to poison him against all the werewolf contenders and place Kate in his bed- and on the throne if they can manage it. I doubt they will manage, but I want you on your guard in case they do something risky. Every alpha will have a guard with them to see to their rights since they may be out of sorts after mating. You'll be locked up after for your own and the young princes' safety, of course.”

“Of course,” Derek frowned, trying to find a good time to bring up his concerns _again_ since she had deftly slid them aside.

“I was thinking one of your sisters. I doubt you'll want your _mother_ there when your slavering over a sexy young omega!” She chortled.

Derek dove in, “Yes, one who I'll likely never see again. Along with _the cub he bears._ Mother, I don't want to do this.”

Talia frowned and settled into her chair and looking every inch the queen instead of the mother, “Obviously, I can't make you. This is your right to do so or not. However, I would advise you to take this under consideration. While you would not retain any sort of paternal rights over the child, you _would_ be making our pack known to them again. Even should you not be chosen to bed him, attending the ball gets our foot in the door. Beacon is almost entirely self-sufficient. They _barely_ trade with us. Go there and talk us up. If you bed him or not is your business. Understood?”

“Yes, mother,” Derek grunted, not bothering to scowl too much. At the very least he'd manage to score some tail along the way. No way was he _breeding_ like a _horse._


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles stood in front of the mirror and raised his chin, staring down his sharp nose at his image. He wore a long dress with full skirts in black and red, something scandalous for a virgin omega to wear, but fitting considering the occasion. The top was square like most male omegas wore, accenting his flat chest and broad shoulders rather than emphasizing his lack of soft breasts. He was proud of his body, even if most said he looked more like a beta than an omega. He had too much muscle, apparently. It came from working the fields and training with a sword. Stiles may have been an omega and a prince, but he wasn't a prissy little kept boy with a handkerchief on hand in case he got teary because he saw a baby in someone else's arms. He was ready to breed because his country needed him, not because he had the baby blues. Of course, being dicked down good was high up on that list as well: even more so because he probably wouldn't get the chance to do so again. He was hoping that he could birth twins. Werewolves were known for multiples, even when breeding with humans, and Stiles didn't want to have to go through this humiliation again. He would need at least two 'cubs', so if he had to he would to ensure the future of his family. The Stilinski name wasn't going to disappear just because he was an only child _and_ an omega. It wasn't right, the alphas of the world vying for his father's kingdom. It should have been _his_ kingdom, but the world had it out for omegas. So. Stiles made it work. He got his dad to sign papers, his mind not quite there anymore, and whatever was on that form was what his advisors listened to. They knew that Stiles was manipulating things, but they also wanted the Stilinski name to stay in power. The king had been much loved, and as much of a hellion as Stiles had been, he was still his son and they had watched him grow up.

“Don't do that,” Scott sighed, walking up behind Stiles and slipping an arm around his waist, “You'll provoke them. You have to keep your chin down.”

“I don't like it.”

“I know, but you also need to _not incite the werewolves.”_

“You know, not every werewolf is like _you.”_

“You know, most of them _are._ There are basic instincts, Stiles. Didn't you tell me that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles sighed, leaning into Scott, “This all sucks so much.”

“It does, but just think... by this time tomorrow you won't be a virgin anymore!”

“Yay! My first and possibly only time having sex!” Stiles fake cheered.

“You get an alpha heir and then you can marry a beta you _actually love_ and have more freedom than any other omega out there, Stiles.”

“It isn't right, what my kind go through,” Stiles scowled, “First step: showing this can work. Second: changing the laws throughout all of Beacon. Equality is right around the corner.”

“Pretty sure it's going to take more time than that,” Scott stated hesitantly.

“My children will continue it,” Stiles stated, his chin lifting proudly again, “My _werewolf_ children, who will live long and healthy lives without disease. Who will _choose_ their own mates.”

“You're sure you want to do this? I love being a werewolf now, but it was scary as hell when I started out. I didn't have a pack and I was _so alone_ and angry and I nearly killed you and my mom.”

“They _will_ have a pack,” Stiles turned to him proudly, “They'll have you. My best friend and the one alpha I trust besides my dad.”

“And your advisors.”

“My _dad's_ advisors, who _will_ turn on me if I do anything they disagree with. Never forget that. We need to make sure we're in a position to stop anything from going wrong, and the first bargaining chip we have is my womb. I lend it out to these horny alphas for a few hours and I get my future. Free and clear.”

“You're sure about this?” Scott worried, scent marking his neck gently.

“I'm positive,” Stiles nodded, “Let's go.”

Stiles stepped out into the ball room, a red mask covering his face, and chin carefully at a neutral angle. He refused to drop his eyes and be demure. He was the prince of Beacon Hills, the would-be king if he had his way, and he would _not_ be cowed. Not even in a room full of horny werewolf alphas who were desperate to mount him. He slipped into the crowd without an announcement, just like the rest of the group had. He watched in amusement as they all flirted with each other eagerly. Stiles had made sure to have several omega servants put in nicer clothes and spread out among the room. He wanted to be able to see what the alphas were like before he bedded them. Smell wasn't enough: he didn't want to fuck an asshole and end up with awful children because of it.

XXX

Derek frowned at the group and was instantly fed up. The prince was being mysterious, and thanks to the masks and the years since he'd seen him last Derek had no idea who he was. There were several omegas in the room, and the occasion was quickly becoming a hook up event. These omegas had been given carte blanche to do whatever they wanted this night, and were taking full advantage. They were all acting like a snobby prince, some of them giggling at their own actions as they did so. It was easy to eliminate those as the possible prince. It was the middle ground or snotty ones that he wasn't sure of. He didn't know the boy's scent, so there was no way to really determine if he was right or not.

Mating season was upon them, and these omegas were here instead of at temple. They were up for claim, and that was a tad more serious than Derek was comfortable with. He would have to ask before bedding them if it could be a once off, but as the room filled with their pheromones there was no doubt he would be going with someone tonight. His mother had dangled an impossible treat in front of his nose, and he was about to take it hook, line, and sinker. Their scent was driving him insane and he wanted... needed... _ached_.

“All I'm saying,” The snotty brat in a garish red and black dress droned on, “Is that omegas _deserve_ more freedom than we're given. We put up with so much and we literally _create life_. Think about that now: we're basically gods. Of course, I don't mean _all_ omegas. That would disrupt the balance. Some of us are just... well, we're _better_ than others. You understand.”

“Mm,” Derek agreed miserably, eyes casting out across the room. This guy was exhausting. He was pretty enough, but he was so full of himself it was ridiculous. He didn't want omegas to have more rights because they were unequal and it was wrong, he wanted them to have more rights because he wanted to be _worshiped._

“You're quite the specimen,” The omega purred, “Maybe I'll let you claim me. _Maybe._ ”

Well. That ruled him out as the prince, and gave Derek permission to get the hell away from him.

“Omegas deserve more freedom because they're people too. Not because you think you should be able to lord over them, and you for one are _not_ a god. You're a jackass.”

Derek turned to make his exit and nearly slammed into another omega in black and red. He scowled just because of the association, but this one gave him a feral grin.

“You're god damn right he is, and the rest of what you said, too.”

XXX

He smelled heavenly: like alpha scent and sandalwood. His scent wasn't all that attracted Stiles, though. He was also a grumpy asshole with positive world views, and that was decidedly Stiles' type. He had found more than one alpha who wasn't repulsive to him, but this one was the only one who downright attracted him for more than just looks. True, Lydia was on that list as well, but she was going to claim Jackson before the end of Heat Week. Nobody thought otherwise, and even Jackson wasn't sincere in flirting with the tall, dark, and handsome werewolf.

This particular werewolf was good at listening, too. He stood there and gave Stiles an annoyed look while he babbled about his political views and the latest books he'd read, but his lips kept twitching up into a smile. He had bunny teeth. Stiles saw them just once when he surprised him with a joke and got a genuine laugh. He was adorable and Stiles wanted to keep him, but that wasn't what this day was about. So he took his hand eventually and led him away, down a hall and into the music room that had been his school room when he was a small child. He didn't ask his name. He didn't want to know. He knew he was going to give him the silver metal that meant he was invited back to his heat, but in the mean time Stiles just wanted to be with someone without the haze of lust that came with his time.

The alpha, for his part, was practically panting for him. He pinned Stiles to the chalkboard and kissed him hungrily, their tongues dueling in wet, silken battle. Stiles ran his hands over his broad shoulders and a chest that was made of pure, sexual energy. The man was _built_ and Stiles was wet for him. The alpha was grinding against his front, and while that felt fantastic it wasn't what Stiles really needed. He dragged his hands away from that gorgeous body and started tugging his skirts up one ruffle at a time. It was a hassle and a half, but the alpha got the message and started to help him out. They hauled the layers up and, laughing at the disaster that his clothes created, got his knickers down and tossed off to the side. The alpha hauled him up and Stiles nearly fell before he managed to get his arms and legs around him. The alpha was shaking his head in amusement, but thankfully didn't let the disaster that Stiles was drive away his desire.

They were back to kissing again, but it only served to distract Stiles from the alpha reaching back to finger his entrance. It felt so damn good. His fingers felt so different from Stiles' or his toys. They teased him and worked him into a frenzy. Stiles licked into his mouth and bit his lip and moaned hungrily while the man drove him insane with lust. Once Sourwolf had him open the man lifted Stiles higher with truly _staggering_ strength and Stiles felt something new prod his entrance. Something thick and spongy.

“Your muscles are seriously insane,” Stiles panted, and gripped his hair in an unforgiving grip as a hot rod began to pierce his body, “Holy shit!”

“Never heard an omega swear as much as you,” Sourwolf panted.

Stiles gave him a challenging grin, eyes watering from the stretch even as he welcomed it, “You like it, you posh bastard.”

“Yeah,” Sourwolf moaned as Stiles slid the rest of the way down his length, “S'good. So fucking tight!”

“Mm, so full,” Stiles panted, starting to wriggle, “I'm ready. Move.”

“Uhn!” Sourwolf groaned, and for a moment Stiles thought it was over. He'd always heard it might be fast. “Let me knot you.”

“Fuck! Yes!” Stiles gasped as he was pressed harder to the wall and the man began to thrust into his body.

Stiles gasped and clutched at him, overwhelmed and gasping for breath. He clutched and clawed at his broad shoulders while the alpha took him with deep, long thrusts, nearly pulling out completely before burying himself inside again. His companion seemed as gone as Stiles was, groaning and mouthing at his neck hungrily. His teeth found the edge of the thick collar meant to keep Stiles from being claimed, but when Stiles tensed he released it. Sharp canines slid along Stiles' neck instead, causing a surge of fear in his heart. It also brought him crashing over the edge, soiling the inside of his skirts with more of his slick as it erupted from his omega cock. It was only a taste of the satisfaction he needed. His body clamped down on the alpha, who let out a strangled sound and began to _swell._

_Oh, fuck, this is it!_

Stiles' body protested at first, a cramping ache moving up his lower back, but this was what his body was made for. The pain diminished and was soon buried beneath a wave of blinding pleasure. He knew now why others talked of sparks behind their eyes, as every thrust to his p-spot lit up his entire brain and set his body to screaming. His brain rattled in his skull and every annoying pretense at the party was washed away in the face of this perfect reward as his Sourwolf rolled his hips and ground his knot into the gland that made bliss inside his body. Stiles was so close to coming again as the alpha inside of him filled his body with his seed. His temporary partner was gone to bliss, panting against his neck, dark eyelashes fluttering against flushed cheeks, and completely oblivious to Stiles' growing desperation.

“Alpha,” Stiles pleaded, unable to get a hand between them, “I need!”

Myriad eyes flew open, he licked his lips, and then shifted legs and arms until he could get a hand between them. Those damn skirts nearly thwarted him again, but he soon had Stiles' length in his hand. Stiles screamed as pleasure wiped his mind clean of everything except his orgasm. He shook, legs clutching him closer, and the alpha echoed his pleasure with a choked groan as Stiles rang more from him.

Finally they were through, locked together and trembling from the aftershocks. Stiles let his head fall back, drawing a growl from the alpha who mouthed at his throat again.

  
“I can't believe we just did that,” Sourwolf growled out just as Stiles remembered to lower his neck.

Stiles nearly gave him a black eye as he hurried to lower his chin. Instead he gave him a jaunty smile.

“It was pretty incredible. I mean for me. I mean, I hope for you, too. It was okay at least, right?”

“It was...” The guy gave him an awed look, “Incredible. Absolutely incredible. I've always heard omega sex was- I meant _without a skin_.”

“A what?”

“A skin. You know, to protect from pregnancy? You've had to have used them before now, or do you have children?”

“Oh, no, uh, I've never done that before either.” Stiles replied, blushing a bit, “I didn't think alphas stayed virgins for long, to be honest.”

“We don't,” The alpha snorted, “That is, I wasn't. I take it you were?”

“I was, yeah.”

“Well,” The alpha shifted to sit back on the desk, settling Stiles into a more comfortable position in his lap, “I don't want to scare you, but you're likely pregnant, especially this close to heat week.”

“You don't think it will delay my heat, do you?”

“Probably not,” He replied with a shake of his head and an award winning smile, “Was that an invitation to spend it with you?”

Stiles fumbled with those damn skirts and came up with one of a dozen little metals, close in size to a coin but with a hole in the center. They were all on different colored ribbons. Stiles took note of the baby blue one so he would know this man even outside of his mask.

“Actually, yes,” Stiles replied, handing it over with a shy smile.

He took it, eyes blank for several seconds, “You're the prince?”

“Uh, well, yes,” Stiles felt his face getting redder and redder by the second.

“ _You're_ the prince?” He repeated, but now he sounded angry and Stiles squirmed a bit in his lap, still tied to him and wishing he wasn't. It felt undignified for a conversation that seemed to be going south.

“Is that a problem?” Stiles asked cautiously. Perhaps he should take his medal back...

“No,” Sourwolf gave him a dazzling smile, “It would be my honor to spend your heat with you, and with any luck your other needs have already been met.”

Stiles ducked his head and glanced up, unaccountably shy despite all they'd done. To have this powerful, gorgeous man before him state so delicately that he hoped Stiles was _pregnant with his cubs_ just did something to Stiles' insides. He nodded sharply and laid his head on the man's shoulder while waiting for his knot to subside.

“Yeah, here's hoping,” Stiles replied softly.

Stiles did eventually return to the party, head held high and stinking of alpha spunk. He got more than a fair few shocked looks, and as he handed out three more of his medals he wondered if they would even _show._ Then he saw the looks that followed. Looks of lust bordering on madness. Scott stuck close to him, hand on his sword, and face scrunched into anxiety.

“Do you have _any idea what you've done_?” Scott hissed when they finally retired for the night.

“Got my cherry popped on my own terms?” Stiles asked, motioning for a servant to help him out of his corsets, “Ugh, I can't be in these things for one more second!”

Scott turned away quickly, “You smelled like sex, Stiles. You smelled like _alpha come,_ but you didn't smell _claimed.”_

“Well, that's a good thing, because I'm not and won't be.”

“You stirred them up! They're going to be in a frenzy by the time they get to you! I can't promise to keep them from claiming you if you rile them up first!”

“It will be fine,” Stiles replied, “I'll wear my collar.”

Scott turned sharply, eyes hard as he walked across the space to Stiles, grabbed him by his now bare arm, jerked him close, and snapped his teeth through the collar as if it were made of cooked potatoes instead of hard leather. It fell to the ground while Stiles stared at him with a wide, terrified expression.

“You are going to be hurt by this one way or another, Stiles,” Scott told him, “Either by them or by yourself. I just want you to be _prepared_ for that eventuality.”

Scott stormed off while Stiles glared at him angrily for stealing his thunder.


	3. Chapter 3

“Oh, my, look who it is,” A venomous voice purred from the crowd.

Derek turned and glared at Katherine Argent as she strolled up to him, “Werewolves only, Katherine. You're wasting your time here.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” She replied, eyeing up a guard nearby, “I'm sure I can find a way to have fun.”

“That's not the only reason you're wasting your time,” Derek gave the prince a lascivious grin. He blushed but continued talking to another.

“You don't actually think you have a _chance,_ do you? Oh, that's laughable.”

“I already did,” Derek replied sharply, “Which is why you see every single _werewolf_ alpha in here slavering after him. He smells like me, and that's making them _insane.”_

“What do you want, a treat? It's not like you'll ever get to do more than pump him full of come and then waddle back home with your knot unsatisfied. See all those medals? He's going to have every single one of them. You're just his first hurrah. He's not going to smell like you for long.”

“Hm,” Derek shrugged in disinterest at her barb and she narrowed her eyes, “What? Did you think that was insulting? Me being his _first_ is somehow... what? Unimportant? Forgettable?”

Derek gave her a significant look and she grimaced at him. He walked away before she could think up a comeback, and instead focused on the delicious foods. He was starving. That had been the best sex he'd ever had, but the aftermath... Derek hadn't thought the needy omega who had grabbed his collar and dragged him into a music room had been the prince. He'd thought he was just another horny omega, and the scent has been driving him insane. His urge to fuck him fast, hard, and often had completely scrambled his brains.

Derek had never once in his _life_ forgotten to use a skin, but the second his brain-fog had lifted he'd been thrilled. The collar had stopped him from claiming him because it was a clear _no_ and he honestly did believe omegas deserved respect and a right to their own bodies. That didn't stop him from hoping that he'd just gotten this one pregnant and could whisk him off to York to the rooms in his mother's castle that he had barely used and fill them with cubs. He'd been mentally picking out names when the sweet, sassy thing had held up a medallion on a string and just... handed him the end to his fantasy. It had hurt. Damn it, he'd had a shag not years of romance, it shouldn't have _hurt._ He hadn't even known his name until that moment, but he'd wanted him with a ferocity that was going to eat him up for the rest of his life.

That didn't mean he wouldn't show up the second heat weak hit in a few days and line up to share the gorgeous, smart omega with whoever else got one. He'd take what he could get, because that scent wouldn't leave his nose and he knew that once this was over with he was going to go home, crawl into his mother's lap, and cry like a toddler. He wasn't even a little bit ashamed. He just hoped that he'd get over him enough to find someone else someday.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles breezed into his father's chambers and flopped down in the chair by his bed.

“Hey there, daddy-o!” Stiles chirped.

Noah turned his head and smiled at him fondly, “Stiles!”

“Hey dad,” Stiles' enthusiasm diminished. Sometimes he forgot that he wasn't okay anymore, that he barely resembled his dad, but then he saw his eyes and recalled. They were distant and so very tired. He slept about twenty hours a day, and ate only one meal a day and it was often barely picked through. His face was gaunt, pale, and he struggled to breathe sometimes.

“There's a... book...” He indicated it and Stiles readily picked it up. His father missed reading, but he didn't have the energy to hold the books anymore.

“Let's see, where were we last time...” Stiles paused, “I could write Talia Hale. Mom loved her.”

“No,” He replied softly.

“There might still be time to-”

“Stiles,” Noah gave him a sad look, “I want to... be with... Claudia. It's... my time.”

“Not yet,” Stiles pleaded, tears starting to fall, “I'm not ready. Please.”

“Stiles,” Noah's hand twitched and Stiles took it eagerly, “You are go-going to be... a good... king.”

“If they _let me!”_

“Should have... t-told you years ago. Didn't want... you to blame them...”

“Blame who? About what?” Stiles asked, eyebrows scrunched, “I knew it. There's a plot, isn't there? Is it about my future cubs? I'll slit their _throats!”_

“Your mom...”

“Someone planned her death,” Stiles whispered in horror.

“She asked... Talia... for the... bite.”

“She... what?” Stiles went still in horror, “But... it would have saved her! Why did she deny her that?! They were supposed to be friends!”

Noah shook his head weakly, “She di-didn't. She tried to-to turn her. Your mom, she...”

Stiles held his breath a moment, but Noah was too choked up to continue. He gestured to his own mouth and his lower lip trembled. It clicked then. Stiles had very few memories of the day his mother had died. He'd mostly blocked them out in a desperate attempt to deal with his daily life. He did, however, vaguely remember his father arguing with someone. He'd been covered with black sludge, but Stiles hadn't known what it was at the time. He did now. He was older and wiser and well read.

“Bite rejection,” Stiles whispered in horror.

It was the most painful way to die known to man. Rumor had it the Argents had found a way to trigger it and kept an alpha werewolf captive to administer fatal bites to traitors to the crown. If his mother had died that way she would have been screaming, out of her head from the illness that had taken her mind away, confused and afraid and lashing out at everyone around her. His father, covered in that sludge, he would have been _holding her down._ He might have even been the one to put her out of her misery. How would he have done it? With a knife? Poison? A pillow?

“Did you have to...?” Stiles choked out.

Noah shook his head, sobbing brokenly, and twitched his hands weakly, “C-couldn't. T-talia...”

Stiles stood up in a hurry, shaking himself out of his horror to comfort him before his heart gave out on him... again.

“Dad, dad, refocus here. You're here with me. Years later. It's okay. She's not in pain anymore, and I love you so, _so_ much. You need to hang on, okay? I want you to hold your grand kids before you go. Please? Deep breath, take a moment. Lie down, okay? Let me read to you.”

Noah slowed his breathing, his eyes unfocused as he tried to calm down. He was asleep before Stiles got the book open, and for several minutes Stiles just stood there with his hand over his dad's heart just to reassure himself. He knew he couldn't hold on to his dad forever, so he had to keep focused on the things he could hold on to. Like his freedom.

His father hadn't raised him like an omega, had never told him that his life would end when he got claimed, effectively belonging to another. He had discovered that after his father's heart attack when he'd found himself locked in his room with a guard posted at the door. They were trying to make sure he didn't get pregnant now that Stiles' father wasn't around. They were talking about who to sell him off to in order to benefit the kingdom. He was a walking womb to them and it was breaking his heart seeing as how he had thought of them as uncles growing up.

Scott had let him sneak out occasionally, but that only lead to one of his father's counselors _beating him_. Stiles had never felt so hopeless in his life, and when his father had regained concentration he had been torn about telling him. If he did, his father might die worried about his son's future. If he didn't Stiles might not have one. So he'd told his father, who had been devastated... and equally helpless. Que Stiles' plan. Stiles told him he'd fix it, and he had. His dad had no idea how, but he knew that Stiles was no longer on watch and was smiling again, so he signed whatever papers were put in front of him by his son and only questioned his advisors. It was working and most of the counselors had even come around on it. They had decided that there was no way the kingdom could suffer from a potentially powerful heir, and the temporary shame of having a slutty omega prince could be spun with the people. Stiles was saving the throne and family name. He was taking one for the kingdom. Lying down and thinking of Beacon. Whatever it took.

“I got this, dad,” Stiles promised, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I'm going to make my life mine. You don't have to worry about me anymore.”

Stiles left with Scott close on his heels. He never went anywhere without him anymore, although Scott had been more than a bit distracted lately. He suspected a scent had caught his nose, but Scott was too worried about Stiles to talk about his latest pursuit. Instead he was standing by Stiles' side as the blacksmith measured his neck.

“Are you _sure_ about this?” Scott pleaded, “This is... it's inhuman.”

“So are my consorts,” Stiles replied coldly, “Leave room for padding. I know it won't be comfy, but I don't want it to take off skin.”

“Yes, my lord.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was torture waiting in the castle for Mieczyslaw's heat to hit. He could smell him everywhere, and now that he knew his scent he recognized him in the halls even though he often went around in pants like an alpha or a beta. He was constantly flanked by a beta who Derek suspected was in love with him based on how touchy-feely he was. He was also a werewolf and had made sure all the human alphas weren't given medals the night Mieczyslaw, or Stiles as he liked to be called, had handed them out. Derek suspected he would be the one raising the cubs Stiles had, and it was pure torture. On one hand, at least the (his) cubs would have a pack to grow up with. On the other hand, Derek wanted to be the one raising them. It was agony to think of the future now, but he had to get by in the present.

The present involved the prince of Beacon Hills being measured by a blacksmith as if the smithy were a tailor. Derek wondered over, trying hard as hell not to laugh at the grave-yard serious look on his face. Derek normally hated conversation, but he was itching for more of Stiles' snarky humor.

“My lord,” Derek put a hand to his chest and nodded his head politely, “Were the medals you handed out too small?”

Stiles' lips twitched up, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He looked sad instead.

“My bro here pointed out that my collar wouldn't be respected by a discourteous consort,” Stiles replied.

“He's right,” Derek replied, eyes falling to Stiles' currently bare neck, “I'm glad you listened, but... I thought you were an only child?”

Stiles nodded to the guard, “We were milk brothers. My mother dried up when I was born so Melissa nursed us both. We've been best friends ever since and I call him my brother even though our plot to get our parents to marry after my mom's death failed spectacularly. Not that you're listening, because your eyes are glued to my neck and you're actually drooling a little.”

“Mm?” Derek grunted, refocusing on his face, “Sorry, I wasn't listening, I was picturing you wearing my claim. Might want to make that thing at _least_ an inch thick. My jaw is... very strong.”

“You managed to hold yourself off last time,” Stiles pointed out, looking surprised at the lack of banter.

“Yes, but that was before I got your scent in my nose,” Derek replied, “Make no mistake, _Stiles,_ you are in danger of being claimed, and I doubt just from me.”

His eyes hardened, “I'm not afraid of you.”

Derek's eyes drifted back down to Stiles' neck, but he didn't reply.

“Okay, fine. I am afraid of you, but I'm not going to let anyone control my life,” Stiles snapped, “No matter how great your knot felt in my ass.”

The blacksmith nearly fell over, eyes wide in shock. Stiles ignored it.

“You don't have to be afraid of me,” Derek replied, “ _I_ respect you.”

“Then you threatening to claim me would be...?”

“A warning, not a threat,” Derek replied, “You're desirable, Stiles. I don't think you've faced that before now. Better forewarned than trapped in an unwanted mating.”

He looked unsure of himself for a moment, but then he nodded, “Thank you.”

Derek nodded his head once again and the blacksmith began to hammer on the collar he would make for Stiles. Derek left before a headache developed, but he did glance back twice. It was the first time he'd seen Stiles' neck bare, and apparently, it would be the last.


	6. Chapter 6

“Is he...?” Stiles whispered.

“He's out of earshot.”

“Oh heaven and hell, that _ass!_ ”

“I could have him arrested,” Scott glared after him, “He did technically threaten you.”

“Not that kind of ass!” Stiles snapped and cupped the air, “His _actual_ ass! Oh my glorious stars, I want to lick it.”

Scott gagged, “That's called rimming. Are you sure you lost your virginity?”

“He was so deep in my ass I could taste his come. I hope I have his babies.”

“Stiles, you're scaring me,” Scott worried.

“Oh, who am I kidding? I'll just pretend any cub I have is his. What was his name again?”

“Derek,” Scott snarked, “Derek Hale.”

“H-hale? He's a Hale?” Stiles asked in alarm.

“Yeah, his family knew your mom, right?”

“Yeah. They were inadvertently responsible for her early death.”

“Wait, what?”

Stiles sighed, “It wasn't their fault, really, but it does hurt. Maybe it will help me keep my head on straight when he's around.”


	7. Chapter 7

Derek returned to his rooms where his sister Cora was trying to pretend she hadn't just had someone in her bed. Derek let her get away with it because it was considered rude in werewolf culture to use your senses to pick on people about sex. Even if that person _was_ your younger sister.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding?

“You tell him I'll break him in half if he hurts you?” Derek asked, sitting down opposite her at the table.

“He's can hear you,” She replied tartly.

The young man in question slipped out from behind the curtains around the bed and made a break for the door. Derek growled at his retreating bare ass and Derek turned back to glare at her.

“Really, Cora?”

“Hey, you're not the only one around who can sleep his way through a kingdom... or two, apparently.”

Derek must have looked like a kicked puppy because her eyes softened and she reached out to hold his hand, “Sorry, big brother. I know this sucks.”

“He's my _mate_ , Cora. I always read that omegas couldn't always tell, and humans less so, but I never thought my own mate would actively _not want me.”_

“He _does_ want you. He just wants his freedom more,” She replied softly, “I can't even imagine what it must be like for him. Mom always said how glad she was that none of us were omegas.”

“Yet,” Derek replied darkly. Joseph was too young to emerge yet, and they all suspected he might be an omega. Talia was steadfast hoping beta like Cora.

“Yeah,” Cora frowned deeply, “Where did uncle Peter get off to?”

“He's still trying to schmooze a medal out of Stiles,” Derek chuckled, “He finds the guy creepy. Yesterday I walked passed and he was threatening to have him locked up until after his heat ended!”

Cora laughed, “He's such a bastard.”

They smiled fondly over their quirky uncle for a moment, but then Cora sobered again, “Are you going to be okay? When this is all over?”

Derek's eyes clouded and he shook his head, “You know, I don't think I am.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I might apply to McCall's pack-”

“Derek, no!” Cora gave him a horrified look, “Why would you torture yourself like that?!”

“I had him first, Cora,” Derek blinked away his boiling emotions, “There's a pretty good chance that any cubs he has will be mine.”

“No,” She reminded him, “By law, they're _his.”_

Derek nodded miserably, “I just... I want to be near him.”

“Goddess, big brother, you've got it bad.”


	8. Chapter 8

“What are you going to do if it's a human?” Jackson taunted.

Stiles wanted to murder him. Of course, as a royal it wouldn't be murder. It would be an execution. He could get away with it. People might even be grateful. Well, except Lydia, but she was clearly in the wrong. First time for everything.

“It won't be.” Stiles stated, pausing in the hall on his way to yet _another_ meeting to address Jackson.

They were getting closer to heat and it was making them both cranky. More than once times like this in the past had led to Stiles brawling on the floor with Jackson Whitmore. The guy was the omega son of a wealthy land owner and he was angry as hell because by law he couldn't inherit. Stiles' law changes meant he could at least _sit_ in his family seat until his cubs aged. He was joining Stiles in scooping up alpha seed this season, and absolutely hated that Stiles was setting trends. There were big, ugly metal collars everywhere. At least Stiles' looked slightly decorative. Most had been made in hurry and looked like something from a dungeon.

“Oh, yeah, it will be twin werewolves,” The guy threw up his hands and waved them mockingly, “Because your twelve year plan can not be denied!”

Twelve years old was the youngest that an alpha would emerge. Stiles needed to have as many cubs as possible before he dried up, which meant mating _during_ season, with multiple werewolves, and essentially hoping for the best. Alphas were the rarest, but it was common for them to flow through rich lines as society had set up that financial stimulus for those families. Stiles wasn't ignoring poor alphas who popped up in random families in his country, but very few had showed up. It was probably intimidating.

“I don't _need_ an alpha,” Stiles reminded him, “A beta will do as well. The kingdom can be run by a beta, and they're the most common! Chances are higher that I get a beta, but of course I'm aiming for an alpha. It's better for the country to have a virulent heir after me. One kid a generation needs to _stop.”_

“It'll stop with you, even if you only breed twice,” Scott interjected, frowning at Jackson for antagonizing Stiles, “but what do you mean 'human'. He's only breeding with alpha werewolves.”

Jackson snorted, “You two losers don't know _shit._ My family _actually leaves the country,_ unlike you shut-ins. Werewolves have human babies. It's a thing that happens.”

“I was told being human was illegal in other countries,” Stiles glanced towards his war room. Someone was getting grilled.

“That's a big, fat ugly lie meant to make them look like barbarians,” He laughed, “Humans are rare, but they exist. My dad almost married one once when he was thinking of expanding his harem, but she turned out to be barren so he dumped her worthless womb.”

“Charming,” Stiles replied dryly, “So what happens? They turn them?”

Jackson shrugged, “Do I look like I care about someone else's worthless spawn?”

“Your regal bearing is a beacon of wisdom to us all,” Stiles replied dryly, “Scott, get a Hale for me. Any one will do.”

“Uh...” Scott hesitated, his face twisting up uncomfortably.

“So the Hales really _are_ here,” Jackson looked feral, “I think I'll wait around.”

“You're right, Scott. Lydia would be a better choice, since she's one of _our_ alphas and, you know, doesn't have ulterior motives. She probably knows what Jackson doesn't,” Stiles decided, a cold rage burning through him at the idea of Jackson bedding Derek Hale. Or any Hale. Really, he just wanted Jackson to be mate-less forever and the urge to have Lydia moved to another city was _burning_ in him. He needed space from this gigantic wanker. Hopefully he'd settle down once Lydia claimed him and got a few babies on him, but Stiles highly doubted it. If anything he pitied the resulting kids.

Stiles was halfway into the room when it hit him. He didn't care that Lydia was going to claim Jackson any day now. He completely and utterly thought of her as a friend now. One good dicking down with another alpha had basically removed her from his head. How _sad_ was it that his supposed love for her was just... gone! It was a bit of a shake up for Stiles, who had spent years defining his romantic life by one strawberry blond alpha female, and for a few minutes he heard nothing anyone said until Scott not-so-subtly kicked him under the table.

“Hm? Sorry, what?” He asked.

There were a few indulgent smiles around the room and Stiles felt his face burn. They were all doing that 'oh, omegas!' thing where they decided his adorable little hormones had gotten the better of him. Stiles was pretty sure that his hormones had nothing to do with his non-existent attention span, but since most omegas didn't get to go to school past learning to read and basic math he had no comparison to prove it.

“We were just wondering how the stewardship will run, and what powers you will have?”

Stiles sighed, “Meaning, what powers will you _let me_ have? Yes, we _should_ hash that out. Again. And again. Probably until I die of old age.”

Then Stiles' brain made a gigantic leap. When he died of old age... what if he aged so slowly that his own cubs wouldn't be his heirs? Not that he wanted to deny them that, but what if he were stronger than all these absolute _cocks?_ Stiles fondled his collar and smirked, considering his options. His father was so phobic that he'd never go for it, but if he never knew... If _none of them_ ever knew... and his plan would increase the odds of getting a werewolf heir instead of a human one!

Stiles refocused on the conversation just in time for them to stop condescendingly reassuring them that he was definitely going to be the 'ruler' of the country, they would _totally_ support him, blah, blah, blah. Stiles wasn't worried. They weren't the smartest and he could manipulate them to a certain extent. A flirty smile here, a convincing argument there, and a long game that he would eventually win.

Stiles smiled and nodded and got through the rest of the meeting with his usual firm statements that stewardship was already defined in their laws. All his powers were outlined. He could make laws that didn't contradict existing laws (once his dad passed away, he kind of was weaseling around that for now). He could make laws that didn't cause his father's heirs- Stiles' kids and the true future king or queen- to lose any kind of power. He couldn't abdicate the throne without a proper heir in position, and if he somehow gave birth to all omegas (statistically improbable, but not impossible depending on how many cubs he had) they would be stewards instead of kings or queens. So the passage would continue until an alpha or beta were born who could become a Stilinski king or queen.

Stiles spent some time arguing how some of the laws he was changing for temple didn't fully contradict, and that his dad had signed off on them so they weren't a 'stewardship thing' and around and around they went. He was hoping to make it harder to trap omegas into marriages with people they didn't also choose. Most of the counselors didn't have omega children, but the few that did were on board and having alphas and betas on his side made the possibly _years long_ argument move along a bit faster. Stiles still wasn't sure that he would be able to make it happen before his father died, and once he was gone the chance to change things would be as well.

Stiles ended things with a bang because... well, keep them guessing was his motto and also he didn't have much time to make changes.

“One last thing before we go,” Stiles stated, “I'm concerned- forgive me, Scotty, but I'm concerned about having a group of alpha werewolves here and having my main guard be one as well.”

“I... wait... what?” Scott looked hurt, but Stiles reached out and took his hand, begging him with his eyes to understand.

“I know you want to protect me, and I absolutely love that, but I'm your packmate and an omega. How likely are you to be able to let them mount me? Not to mention, you're going to be trying not to _puke_ the whole time. Guards who aren't attached to me like a brother and as an alpha would be the smartest solution, and I think you know that.”

“So you're having me removed?” Scott's puppy eyes were _heartbreaking._

“I want to _discuss_ it,” Stiles replied.

“He's the most likely to be able to keep you safe,” Counselor Marco spoke up quickly.

“He's not,” Stiles replied, giving Scott's hand a squeeze again, “He can't handle wolfsbane. A human can. I'd like all human guards, in fact... Scotty, I think you should take a brief hiatus from the castle till they're gone. I don't want any fights, I don't want anyone accusing _you_ of breeding me and then trying to name my heirs McCall. _Please_ stop looking at me like that! I know it sucks, but it's just temporarily!”

“While you're most vulnerable! You're _my packmate!”_

“That's exactly what I mean,” Stiles gave his hand a jerk to get him to focus, “As long as you're viewing me that way, you're going to be trying to guard my virginity- stop glaring, you know what I mean- and it's going to stop our goals from manifesting.”

“Okay,” Scott looked so damn hurt, “If that's what you really want, but what about when it's over? I can come back, right?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles hugged him tightly, “I don't want you anywhere else. Ever. You're my best friend and brother, and you're going to have lots of little wolfy nieces and nephews to take care of.”

Finally they adjourned, Stiles' stomach growling angrily as he moved through the building on quick feet with a purpose in mind. He didn't have time to eat just at that moment. He had to find someone.

Satomi was a werewolf alpha who had taken sanctuary in their lands two hundred years ago to escape Argent abuse. She was virtually unknown among even their own people as a werewolf, ran the orphanage in town with love and wisdom, and followed a faith that Stiles had little understanding of despite having read up on it out of curiosity. He knew she was peaceful and craved no power. She was old by werewolf standards, had chosen only a few young people as her pack, and was the one who had turned Scott when his illness got too awful. Scott was what was known as a 'True Alpha', meaning he was the kind who led other alphas. Satomi and he had clashed verbally a few times, but in the end Scott had formed his own pack without an issue. They were all humans and Lydia as a banshee had slid in as well, but it wasn't surprising that Scott had started talking about turning someone someday. It was more of a wistful thing. He wanted to pick the _right person._ Stiles knew if he asked Scott would jump on board, but Stiles didn't want anyone to call into question who exactly was leading the country. He wanted this to be a secret, so he had to go to a secret werewolf, not one who was out of the closet.

“Hey Satomi,” Stiles grinned as he walked into the building and saw Satomi gently rocking a small baby who had likely been abandoned by a teenage mom or a poor omega who couldn't raise them.

“My lord,” She dipped her head delicately, “How does the Steward fair?”

“Well enough,” Stiles grinned, “Things are moving along swiftly. I was hoping to talk to you in private, if we could?”

“OF course, let me just get this wee one to sleep,” She replied.

Stiles ended up standing around for quite a while waiting on a baby to fall asleep, but he took it as a learning opportunity. He was about to be flooded with babies, and there weren't many in the castle for him to practice on. He should probably visit more. The dolls that he'd had omega lessons on didn't fight sleep or cry for no reason. Stiles even ended up holding her for a few minutes. She was so damn sad, missing her mother, but the smell of an omega soothed her a bit and she was quickly to sleep. Stiles blinked back tears, excited for the future. While he was angry about being denied leadership of his own country and throne, he loved being an omega for other reasons. He wanted to create _life_. He wanted babies... well... cubs. He wanted a big family, and if he wasn't ever going to get a husband out of it he would be more than happy with a huge pile of babies. Minimum was two, but he really wanted more. He just wasn't sure if he could get this to happen more than once. People might get tired really quick of his sex parties in which he never let them claim him.

Finally they were alone and Stiles sat down on a rocking chair in relief while Satomi bustled about cleaning up a changing station with brisk motions and a matronly smile.

“I came to-”

“Ask me to turn you,” She replied in slow, even tones despite having interrupted him, “I have been expecting this for some time.”

Stiles blinked, “Were you expecting me to ask you to keep it a secret, send Scott away so he couldn't be blamed, and blame an unknown, faceless alpha from my little sex party who never gets to claim me or be my alpha?”

“Most of that, yes,” She replied casually, “I was expecting to advise you to send Scott away. You have matured so much this past year.”

“Uh... thanks?”

“There is a flaw to your plan.”

“I'll need to be in control before they mate me and out of control afterwards to make it look like I got turned during my sexy times, despite guards watching me like a hawk the whole time.”

“Precisely,” She nodded, “While it is entirely possible that you will take to lycanthropy like a duck to water it is most unlikely, especially with your estrus in the works.”

“We have barely a day to make this work,” Stiles sighed, “What do you suggest? I was thinking to have you show up at the castle _during_ my estrus with some excuse or need that can't wait, but that might make things obvious if anyone has figured out you're an alpha werewolf. Especially since, like _who interrupts a mating?_ ”

“That would be impossible,” She waved him off.

“Then the best bet would be for you to turn me _directly after_. I could make easy excuses about coming here to see you, wanting to hold babies maybe, and then you could turn me before Scott gets home. If he's the one who notices I've been turned... oh! I could make it public! If he sees me for the first time after getting back and I'm a werewolf he's _going_ to shout!”

Satomi nodded in amusement, “There is one downside to _this_ plan.”

“The bite while pregnant,” He breathed out slowly, “What are the risks?”

“Aside from rejection, which is most rare? Miscarriage is virtually guaranteed,” She replied, “Therefore turning you before you mate is required in order to preserve your plan to be pregnant afterwards.”

Stiles' stomach twisted and Satomi gave him a wary look, “You suspect you are already pregnant.”

“It's not... guaranteed. I wasn't in heat, just close, and frankly being unsure who the father is actually helps me. It's probably better if... if I even suspect. It's not like he won't be there when I'm in heat. I'll get another chance with him.”

“None of them will say anything if they walk in and you smell turned because they won't want to be blamed. I suggest you accept the bite now and then cloister yourself until you go into heat. Claim distress due to pending mating. It should be easy to avoid others now. With Scott gone, your social group is small. Take to your room. Practice control. I'll give you some brief instruction.”

Stiles let out a slow, terrified breath, “Okay. Let's do this. One more thing, though: Scott's my alpha. No offense, just... he won't tolerate it if he isn't.”

“I expect nothing else,” She waved that away dismissively, “However, Scott will feel you pulled from his pack when I bite you. We must wait until he is gone.”

The next morning Satomi arrived at his chambers while he was having breakfast. He invited her to join him and they had a spirited discussion about the orphans. She wanted him to take one to nurse if she had any newborns after he delivered. He told her that he didn't want to commit, but that if he only had one he would do so. If he had twins and enough milk he'd donate the excess without fail, much as he had for the last five years encouraged omegas throughout the town to do when they could.

Before she left, she pulled him into a hug and Stiles braced himself for the bite then, but it didn't happen. Instead she stepped back with a fond smile and took his hand.

“I suppose I should treat you more like the Steward you will soon be,” She brought his hand up to kiss it and bit the back so delicately that he only let out the barest of gasps.

Satomi straightened up, smiling fondly at him, and his blood was nearly hidden by her lipstick. Stiles quickly sat down- no hardship as he was suddenly dizzy- and snatched up a napkin to press against the small wound. Satomi said a few more words he didn't hear past his ringing ears and then slipped away with a calm that bellied Stiles' internal panic. As a human he had never really _noticed_ his pack bond with Scott, but he felt it now that it was gone. An absence. His best friend and brother was suddenly just _gone._ It felt like he'd died, and if it felt like this to Stiles than Scott had to be losing his mind. He had to think Stiles was dead.

Thank goodness he was on a boat at sea, well away at this point, because there was no way he wouldn't have turned around and come right back. As it was, only the winds would keep him away and he'd be declaring the death of the king to the whole damn boat. When it did return Stiles would have to find answers. Hopefully no one lined up one day to the next and realized it had happened before Stiles went into heat. It wasn't like the kingdom would have an announcement. _Hear ye, hear ye, the king is panting for cock!_

“My Lord?” Stiles' guard asked, a tone of concern, “Should I fetch... your... uh...”

“No need to get my sex brigade just yet,” Stiles supplied, “I am close, but not there yet. I just need to lie down. This happens sometimes close to my time. Tell anyone who approaches that I'm resting. I probably won't want lunch at this point, but we'll see. Definitely not going to be needing supper.”

Stiles stood up on shaky legs and the guard looked torn. He wanted to help, obviously, but touching Stiles simply wasn't allowed except by close family... or older ladies like Satomi who weren't considered a 'threat' to omegas anymore. Never mind that as a werewolf she 100% could still get him pregnant at 300 or whatever she was. It was just one of those silly stereotypes.

Stiles left his beta guard in his sitting room and cloistered himself in his bedroom with plenty of water and a few warming rocks to lay over his abdomen in case it cramped.

He felt cramping all right, partway into the afternoon he was overcome with a great deal of cramping: in his ass, his womb, and his _teeth_. How weird was that?! Stiles got progressively more cranky and needy as the afternoon wore on, and shortly before dinner he opened his chamber doors and watched the beta guard's eyes dilate at the scent of heat pouring off of him.

“Fetch the first alpha and all the guards who will protect me. It's time.”

Stiles paced his chamber anxiously, hoping that Derek Hale was the first one in. He wore his heavy metal collar and a mask, even though they all knew who he was by this point. It was to keep things on an even level as the alphas would all be masked. Those who had received medals and stayed in the castle after the party all wore masks when leaving their rooms, but since they all had 'guards' with them it wasn't hard to guess by association who they all were. That was how Stiles had found out who Derek was, because there was only one alpha associated with Cora Hale who fit his description. He _might_ be wrong, but he didn't think he was.

Sadly, a dark skinned werewolf was delivered to him first. Stiles had hesitated to even give him a medal. They had clicked nicely, but it would be obvious if Stiles chose him. So he'd given another dark skinned werewolf a medal who he was blah about just so there would be two dark skinned men in his bed that day. Luckily both had accepted and stayed, otherwise Stiles would have had to dismiss this one. Unfortunately Stiles found himself wanting Derek to the point he had to hold himself back. He now wanted to send this man away, despite having enjoyed a long conversation with him at the party. He was witty, a fun guy who loved adventure and had climbed several mountains just because. Stiles admired that, but he wanted _Derek._

Stiles cleared his mind and headed for the bed. He was lucky. Nearly every omega in the country- perhaps even the world- was headed to a Temple right this moment to spread their legs for someone not of their choosing. Stiles (and to a lesser degree his omega staff who joined him in his original ruse) got to pick ten contenders. That was no small choice. He should be happy.

“My Lord,” The man bowed, but he seemed unable to speak further when Stiles let his robe slide down his body to reveal his naked, heatedly aroused body. He wore only a robe and a mask himself in order to walk the halls.

The man launched forward and Stiles was tackled onto the bed. His guards jerked forward, but didn't intervene when the man simply pushed him down rather than bearing teeth or claws. Stiles' legs wrapped around his waist and they were fucking fast before Stiles had a chance to brace himself. It was rough and dirty and done in minutes, with the alpha knotted in his body and pulsing into his core. Stiles panted and jerked himself off, enjoying every second of the thick cock rubbing his prostate _just right._ It was so good to have an alpha in his bed during his heat that he didn't care anymore who it was. He just wanted to get off and get off often.

Stiles spilled his release twice before relaxing into the bed, the alpha above him still grunting and moaning as he reveled in Stiles' heat-soaked body. Stiles felt so full already, his seed felt as if it were distending his abdomen, but when Stiles glanced down it wasn't as obvious as it felt. If he were to stay with this one werewolf the entire time it soon would be, because even when his knot disengaged he would be unlikely to willingly slide free. However, he had to go. That was the agreement. Stiles would lay here in hedonistic state while one alpha after another were dragged off of his body and the next brought in.

It felt like too soon before the knot started to relax and the alpha immediately started whispering promises into his ear. He was kissing his face and shoulder and promising him happiness, years of love and joy, freedom to rule his country, devotion, the _fucking moon_. Anything to not be removed.

Stiles reached for a bell by his bed and gave it a sharp strike. His guards surged forward and the alpha above him turned on them with teeth and claws. Stiles felt a moment of terror and shouted for Scott automatically, but he wasn't _there._ He barely kept Satomi's name from his lips after that, because the wolf being born inside of his mind recognized her as his alpha still. However, the guards were ready to deal with him and a wolfsbane powder took him down fast. He would be taken to Deaton to be treated, and if another omega in Stiles' entourage had also chosen him he could spend his week with them. Perhaps that omega would let him claim them.

The next alpha to enter after they had carefully cleaned up the powder and changed the bedding was an alpha female, and she walked with the sensuality of a goddess in legends. Stiles couldn't even speak as she approached, so stunned was he by her beauty and power. She stood with legs slightly apart and a slick member slid from her depths, mobile and flexing as it sought him out as if it had a mind of it's own. Stiles moaned and his legs fell apart and she glided into the bed with a smirk on her face.

“I'm going to make you forget the alpha you stink of,” She growled.

“Done,” Stiles panted, because honestly? _Hot damn!!_

Her cock, unlike an alpha male's was flexible and hungry. It would swell with a knot as well, but for now it slid into his body and curved to tease his prostate unerringly. Stiles came twice before she even locked them together, hands clutching her breasts and eyes watering from the overwhelming pleasure and demand on his needy body. He blacked out at some point while she pleasured him, so overwhelmed he could barely catch his breath, and there was simply no denying their sexual energy.

Still, when her knot released and she sat up on his thighs and smiled down at him with that assured look Stiles' hand shot out at lightning speed to hit the bell. Her look of outrage and shock made him feel a bit bad, but she knew what she'd signed up for. She was pried off of him, but had the dignity to walk out without being knocked out with wolfsbane powder.

So it went. Stiles was in a lust-filled haze and often didn't recognize or barely acknowledged the alphas who took him for the next week. Derek was the exception, and the hardest to send away. He took him thoroughly, his hands strong but tender and his mouth on that damn collar instead of Stiles' lips where he wanted them. He started promising him the world the second he got to his bed, not waiting until Stiles was sated to tell him over and again that he would be a good mate for him. It brought tears to Stiles' eyes, because in different circumstances he would have agreed. He had to keep his throne, and even if Derek were forward thinking he couldn't risk his kingdom on a virtual stranger. Besides, they all made those claims, how could he know Derek was different? It was easy to say that he would let Stiles rule, it was even easier to have the law on his side that said the alpha was the king not matter who _should_ have inherited.

“I'm sorry,” Stiles told him, hand hesitating above the bell at the pleading in those rainbow eyes, “It would be you if it could, but it _can't.”_

“I know,” He whispered back, and slid slowly from Stiles' body.

Stiles didn't ring the bell on him. Derek stood up, eyes still locked on Stiles, and redressed with dignity. He hesitated once more before leaving the room, his eyes roaming over Stiles as if he was trying to memorize what he looked like debauched and wanting him.

They went in rotation until he'd had all ten throughout the week, and though Stiles lost count he was aware that Derek had a second turn. He'd have had to win it by lot after the initial multi-mating. Derek seemed frantic this time, fucking Stiles with his face buried in the bed and strong hands gripping his shoulders. Stiles was sore by then from being knotted repeatedly, but he didn't complain because it was hot as hell to have Derek growling out his name as if he couldn't breathe without saying it. Stiles could barely come anymore, despite drinking gallons of water between breeding sessions, but he still felt that wave of pleasure as his orgasm made him choke on his screams of bliss.

Stiles almost didn't let him go that second time. He clung to him, pulling him closer and sobbing when his guards realized they were done and came in to pull him away. They had standing orders to ignore any stupid begging he did if he got attached to an alpha, and they listened. This time Derek _did_ wolf out. Seeing Stiles reaching for him had to be too much. He roared and raged and threw two guards before they managed to hit him with the powder.

“DON'T HURT HIM! PLEASE!” Stiles wailed, but Derek was unconscious and while Stiles found out later that he was fine he wasn't given the chance to say goodbye.

Stiles' heat stopped abruptly after Derek was removed from his chambers. The guards didn't even have to ask. Stiles' scent had changed and he was clutching the blankets against himself while he cried, angry at himself and his situation and the world around himself. Someone called for a bath for him and he sat in it by the fire and soaked away the scent of nine alphas he didn't want and the one he did until he felt like he could face the world again. He left the herb scented waters clean, pruny, and resigned.

He was getting his kingdom.


	9. Chapter 9

Scott left the boat with a sense of finality and misery in his heart. He'd been on a tour of the country's coast side but had barely been able to focus on his duties as a knight and guard of the king. He had felt Stiles die, but no amount of tears could turn the winds. They had a cycle they followed, going around the coast in one direction before catching the current that would ride them in the opposite direction and take them home. This required some rowing, but mostly they rode the hot water that came from the equator to take them back to their main port at a sedate pace while another boat monitored the coast using the winds closer to shore. It was faster than riding by horse back home and the standard for coastal patrol. Four boats maintained this loop, but Scott as Stiles' closest friend and guard had only done it once before. Now he felt as if taking this trip were the worst mistake he could ever make. He had spent his nights crying himself to sleep and his days staring out at the coast they passed hating it. If he'd been there he could have protected him. He _knew_ he could have, but he'd let Stiles drive him away with his usual ridiculous paranoia and over planning. Not enough planning this time, apparently.

If he were lucky he'd get back in time for the funeral.

And to kill the usurper.

Scott stepped onto Beacon Harbor and was met by several of his guard friends. Some were out of uniform, so just there to greet him. He felt a bit sick as he stepped down. Who was still loyal to Stiles? Would they even give him the chance to slaughter whoever had taken his throne and kingdom from him?

“Scott!” Liam looked foreboding as he approached, “We have... news.”

“I know,” Scott replied, not ashamed of the tears that fell, “I felt him die.”

“Die?” Liam blinked, “Wh-when?!”

“Ten days ago at least.”

He shook his head, “He's alive, or he was when I left.”

The guards around them looked alarmed and several said they needed to get back. Scott abandoned his trunk of possessions on the harbor and hurried towards the castle with him while Liam filled him in.

''Lord Stiles was betrayed during his heat,” Liam told him, “Someone turned him, which is probably what you felt?”

Liam was a human so he had no idea how pack bonds worked, but that sounded accurate. By turning him that person had pulled Stiles from his pack as surely if they'd claimed him.

“Who? Are they alive?” Scott asked sharply.

“We never found out who. Stiles was too out of it to tell us who bit him, and all of those alphas have been sent away so we were just waiting for you to return to become his pack alpha, but that's not the worst of it.”

“What the hell is then?!” Scott asked sharply, but of course timing was everything and his barked out question came as he flung open the doors to the throne room to see Stiles sitting in the queen's chair with wide, haunted eyes and someone unexpected sitting in the King's chair, “Satomi?!”


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles dressed in his most comfortable clothes after having a _very_ big meal in his robe, as was his right. He headed down to the orphanage in a small carriage with two guards and walked in with a fond smile.

“Satomi!” Stiles grinned warmly, “It's done! I'll be round with child in no time!”

“Ah, my Lord,” Satomi bowed to him and smiled warmly, “You are already glowing.”

“My kingdom- my _father's_ kingdom, has so much to say about this. I've been named the Harlot Prince. I hope to have twins. I might stop there if they are both werewolves since the chances are high they'll at _least_ be betas, but I may need to do this again. I hope not. It was exhausting in so many ways that I'm sure you don't want to hear as a matronly woman.”

“Ack, spare me your youthful antics!” She waved her hand in disgust, “Come, you came to practice on babies and I have an abundance. Let's put two in your arms since you long for twins.”

Stiles happily followed her and dropped his tired body into a chair while his guards left them be. He didn't think they wanted to be around diapers, not that he could blame them. He wasn't looking forward to that part either. The wolf had been quiet during his heat, likely only one intense urge could be roaring around at a time, but now that it was over it was growling and snarling in the back of his head. He had practically ran to Satomi as soon as he was clean. He needed his alpha, which meant he needed Scott to get back to transfer this ownership over. Stat.

“Here we go,” She cooed, surprising him by actually bringing him a baby.

“Aww, high there little one!” Stiles cradled the baby lovingly, smiling down at her.

“Werewolves are very tactile,” She told him, “Press them to your throat so they can scent you.”

“This is a werewolf?”

“No, but you can still _practice,”_ She gestured for him to get on with it so he shifted around to get the baby to his neck.

Satomi descended on him with a second baby and had him juggle the two. He was instantly overwhelmed. There were _two_ squalling babies in his arms and they were hard to handle in the extreme. Getting them both to his neck was nearly impossible! Satomi tutted and leaned down to help him, pressing them to his neck and showing him how to hold them safely.

“Now, up and walk. The like to be bounced.”

“Uh, maybe another day?” Stiles suggested, frustrated and with his head pounding, “How do I tone down my hearing, this is _awful.”_

“You are going to be a mother soon, my Lord, you must adapt quickly. Up!”

Stiles struggled to rise. This wasn't a strength thing, which he noticed had increased and scared him while holding fragile babies. His balance was off with two writhing creatures screaming in his arms. He gave Satomi a distressed look as he scrambled up and then paced the room to calm the babies. They were determined to throw themselves from his arms.

“Uh, Satomi?! A little help here?”

Satomi slipped in behind him and steadied him, showing him again how to handle them, and the babies began to settle down. They relaxed down in his arms and Stiles relaxed as well.

“Phew, that was-”

Sharp teeth pierced his neck, deep and into his mating gland, spilling the saccharine fluids down his shoulder. Most of the fluids went into the mouth of the person claiming him, and Stiles felt a flood of cold horror washed over him like an ice bath. He was shaking from head to toe as Satomi deftly rescued the babies from his lax arms before they could topple to the ground. With a smile that showed teeth stained with blood and the white fluids that flowed from the gland at his neck she waltzed away to put them in their crib.

“Now then,” She stated cheerily, “Let's go introduce _my kingdom_ to their new queen.”


	11. Chapter 11

That awful collar that Stiles had hated when Derek had kissed his neck was back on him, keeping any other alpha from trying to counter the claim Satomi had put on him. He was numb with horror and shock as she led him around the chambers, proud of herself for violating his trust and body by claiming him in a moment of distraction. She cooed and showed off a beautiful kimono that she had pulled out of a storage trunk and had him dress her in before the short carriage ride back to the castle. Stiles was in shock. His advisors were in shock. The guards looked like they wanted to kill themselves with guilt.

Stiles was claimed, his life now in the hands of Satomi Ito, and any attempt at power he could have had was gone. There was no _Stewardship_ now. Satomi was queen and happily ordering her bedchambers arranged so she could claim Stiles in other ways. The most Stiles could do was hiss an order to triple the guards at his father's chamber, to let no one in, _not even Stiles._ Satomi could control him now, not just as his alpha but also as his _mate,_ and could effectively _make him_ kill his own father to assure her place on the throne. Not that she needed to wait long. He was fading fast by all accounts.

Stiles didn't even know what to do with himself. He just followed her around, too stunned to cry or fight or even speak. He'd never been this silent in his life and his keen hearing caught his father's advisors whispering their worry that he'd been drugged. Not out of concern for Stiles, of course, they were worried about _the baby._

_My baby. My babies. No, no, no, she won't get my babies!_

Stiles' mind came slamming back into function and started whirring and spinning as it looked for a solution from every angle. On the outside he still likely looked terrified and he was definitely trembling, but his resolve was back. He was not going to be this woman's softspoken little omega cunt. He was going to get away from her, and he was going to do it before his baby's were out of his belly and at her mercy. For now she couldn't lay a finger on him. He was _'in a delicate way'._ He was also under heavy guard by people who would never let him escape as Satomi happily brought in new guards and put _Jackson_ at their head. Stiles was trapped, but he would not, absolutely _would not_ stay that way.

Satomi was a nightmare, but she didn't follow through on her threat to bed him. She made a show of taking him into her new bedchambers, but left him in peace once inside. She slept in her own bed and he in his, and there was no overpowering her even when alone because she was decidedly stronger than he as an alpha. However, she was _three hundred_ years old. Stiles suspected she _couldn't_ bed him and had waited for him to be with child intentionally. What Stiles would do if he didn't get away and had a heat with her, he had no idea. Probably lie there and suffer with toys.

When Scott returned from his tour of the cost Satomi greeted him with a polite smile, several kind words, and then fired him on the spot with severance since he was so beloved by the towns people. Stiles was relieved, and gave Scott a gentle smile when he was led away with shock in his eyes. He had expected her to kill him off. Instead, he was going to be out of Stiles' reach, but decidedly safer. It let Stiles relax marginally, but he didn't let his guard down. He would never, ever let his guard down again.


	12. Chapter 12

Derek did end up returning home, but not for lack of wanting to stay. He and the other alphas and their guards were read the riot act by one of the kings advisors. They lined them all up and gave them a very poetic and flowery speech about how they had done a great service for Beacon and would all be given excellent trade rates due to their contribution, blah, blah, blah... get on this boat and don't come back. Ever.

Derek tried to get one aside to apply for citizenship and was told that he would never be considered. Ever.

That 'ever' word was being thrown around quite a bit.

He got on the boat with his packmates and there were more then a few people grumbling about how they were _so sure_ they had connected with the prince and should have been allowed to stay. Surely they'd get a sweet love letter soon, demanding their return so this trip was a _waste of time_. At the very least they'd be called back next year when Stiles went on his winter heat again. Derek ignored them. He had heard Stiles' guards talking after he'd recovered from his wolfsbane dosing. _He begged for him. He's obviously meant to be the Lord's mate. We shouldn't have taken him out. What if we're punished?_

Derek felt the distance between himself and Stiles growing as the boat moved. He only had a tentative bond formed, so it wouldn't feel awful when it broke. It would just drift away and he wouldn't notice it anymore. He'd been surprised to smell that the young Lord was a werewolf and wasn't sure if he'd been turned during or before his season, but certainly he had seemed in control. Likely Scott was his alpha, but wouldn't or couldn't mate him. Or perhaps this was all a ruse to hide the fact that a young upstart was about to claim him and steal the throne. Omega heirs without beta or alpha counterparts were considered problematic for a reason: It allowed the throne to be usurped by anyone who managed to dig their teeth into the young one. Hopefully he would be happy with Scott now that he'd had a taste of his proper mate.

Derek didn't expect a letter like these others did. He knew that Stiles was an ambitious young man with his future laid out before him. He had every second of every minute of every day planned out, and Derek wasn't in that plan. They'd had something beautiful, but it was over now. If he were lucky he'd get to mount him again in a year, but he doubted that would be the case. Most likely the only one who would ever touch him again was Scott, even if that was kept a secret. Stiles would have his cub(s) and his happy family in secret and be the Steward of his father's kingdom until it was time to pass it on to his kids. King in all but name for at least 18 years, perhaps longer pending the counsel deciding his cub was ready to ascend the throne. Stiles was effectively going to be the first omega ruler and Derek was happy for him.

Derek arrived at his own port in three days time, and went to greet his mother, scent and be scented by his pack. He couldn't force a smile onto his face and his pack went from teasing him to comforting in the course of a few minutes. He ended up held tightly against his mother's side for a while as they walked through the garden. It was bare like his heart, but he didn't say that because it felt melodramatic. Instead he just held his cloak tighter around his body and let his mother drone on about all he'd missed while he was away and how much fun they'd have in spring.

“You really should stay this time,” She told him, “I miss you when you're wandering about the countryside.”

“Sure,” He replied softly, “I'll stay. Maybe I'll join the guard again. It's been too long since I settled in one place.”

Talia pressed a firm kiss to his temple, “I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but it will stop hurting in time.”

It was another month before they got word that Stiles had been claimed by a usurper who now held the throne. Derek didn't want to hear about how Stiles was happy with Scott, so he left the table when his pack started to talk about it and they kindly didn't resume until he was out of earshot.

It was another two months before his sister Cora approached him, eyes wide and red from crying and a letter clutched in her hands.

“Derek, I know that Lord Stilinski basically broke your heart, but...”

“What is it?” Derek asked, a feeling of dread rising in his gut.

“The rumors that he had planned it all out? The whole breeding and then getting claimed by an older alpha thing? They may not have been true.”

“What older alpha? McCall looked his age.”

Cora shook her head, “No, it wasn't McCall who claimed him. Everyone suspected they were lovers, but if they were it wasn't what happened in the end. It was a woman no one even knew was a werewolf! People are saying she turned him and then ordered him to let her claim him once she had sway over him, all while McCall was away. She's, like, _hundreds_ of years old and probably couldn't breed him if she wanted to so she needed him pregnant first. For all we know, she orchestrated the whole thing!”

Derek felt numb and leaned against the wall at this proclamation, “There's nothing we can do. Stiles... Claudia's son... he's trapped.”

“That's just it,” Cora told him with trembling lips, “My friend... my lover, she's in the castle. She's been trying to find a way to get him out, but she can't! He's under constant guard and he's _pregnant._ She wants us to attack Beacon Hills. She wants _you_ to counter-claim him.”


	13. Chapter 13

Pregnancy was absolute _hell._ In addition to dealing with werewolf related mood swings- which honestly weren't any worse than his pre-heat mood swings- he was also puking at least once a morning. He was told often he was lucky, that many had far worse symptoms. He hadn't started any pregnancy cravings yet, but he sure as fuck was achy. He had always assumed that werewolves had it easier, and perhaps they did because even at six months pregnant he was getting around far easier than Jackson was. Of course, Jackson was a complete fucking baby himself, so it only made sense that he needed someone to carry his pathetic ass around. At least the guy wasn't living in the castle anymore. He had only been there so often because he was one of the omegas involved in Stiles' little breeding plot, but now that Danny had claimed him he was rarely around.

Lydia, to Stiles' complete shock, hadn't even tried to claim Jackson. She'd laughed when he'd asked about it. Apparently she had a paramour she was writing love letters to, but aside from that hint she kept her secrets. She also asked him careful questions about his health, his hopes, his dreams. He had few of those last two anymore, and he had no intention of telling her that he had plans to escape. Satomi had cared for him as a child, been one of his tutors, been there for him after his mother had died. Yet she had betrayed him. Stiles would never trust anyone again. He barely even talked to anyone anymore, but he did admit to her after a while that there had been an alpha he'd connected with. It felt good to talk about Derek and he soon found himself waxing poetic about his pecs, his world views, and how much he'd wanted him as a mate.

Of course, the main appeal of Derek now was that his mother had adored the Hales and trusted them completely. Derek was also a second child, so if he claimed Stiles he would take over his throne rather than absorb his kingdom into York's. They weren't exactly bordering each other, anyway. Stiles didn't voice any of this to Lydia, but she was a smart woman. She likely had her own thoughts.

Late at night, when hope seemed absent, Stiles often thought about how he'd felt in Derek's arms. His mind and body now craved contact with Satomi, but it was purely a chemical reaction due to the claim. What he'd had with Derek, though brief, had felt real and like a something he would have wanted to have forever. Stiles was afraid to trust that, but everything in him was telling him to _get to Derek,_ and honestly, what else would he do? Where would he go? He couldn't even visit his father, and the man's life couldn't be his first concern anymore. The growing, fluttering in his belly had to be his focus. Stiles had to protect his unborn cubs and Derek was the only alpha he felt he could turn to besides Scott, and Scott and if he made a move towards Scott he'd be killed. There was no doubt in Stiles' mind about that as the threat had been made. He just hoped that when he finally _did_ free himself that Scott wouldn't be killed if Stiles didn't show up near him. At the very least they might keep him alive as _bait._


	14. Chapter 14

“No,” Talia stated.

“Why not?!” Derek raged, pacing back and forth in her study.

“For the thousandth time, Derek, we can't go to war over an omega you want!” Talia seemed beyond frustrated.

“He's her prisoner!”

“He's her _mate._ Derek, I don't like it either, but omegas are property. There are _laws-”_

“So change the laws!” Derek raged, “Stiles did! He made _huge_ advancements in omega rights with _one law!_ ”

“And even if we change ours, he's in a different country!” She shouted over him, standing up to get his full attention, “If we invade another country solely to claim a throne and change _their_ laws we'll be despots in their eyes!”

“No one wants Stiles with Satomi! They want him with Scott! Give him to Scott if you don't want it to look like we're invading tyrants, but this isn't what he wanted done and you _know that!_ Queen Claudia was your friend, wasn't she? Don't you _care_ what happens to her son?!”

Talia sank into her chair in exhaustion, “Derek, I loved Claudia like a sister. I wanted to save her, I really did but she died in my arms claiming _Stiles_ was trying to kill her. I thought it the mad ramblings of a dying woman, but Derek... look at what he's done. How many people he's manipulated. First Claudia dies from _my_ bite; a rarity most often triggered by wolfsbane poisoning. Then his father lay in a state of near death for long enough for him to _change the laws_ _in his favor._ He brings in strong, powerful lovers, gets himself in a family way, is claimed by someone who seems weak and unlikely, and then asks one of those mates to come and rescue his kingdom? It sounds like a plot from a frivolous book!”

“You aren't _seriously_ suggesting that he killed his own mother, gravely wounded or poisoned his father, and _planned_ to be claimed by Satomi in order to start a war! What would he gain?”

Talia turned and pulled out a map, laying it out across her desk, “We don't border Beacon. Between us lay the Argents, which is why their land remains human along with theirs and why our _only_ access to them is by boat. Beacon split from the Argents centuries ago over a common land dispute. The then Queen Stilinski declared sovereignty and the Argents were so bitter they have been trying to get the throne back ever since. Satomi was originally from Asia judging by her nationality, but where she was born or grew up is a mystery. We know she ended up in Beacon at some point, and that they only allow immigration for reasons of asylum. So she is there under political sanctuary. Who has been to war with Asia in the last three hundred years?”

Derek had to wrack his brain. They had had peace for a long time and his lessons felt like they were even further off.

“We did at one point, but that was so long ago, mother-”

“Who was their unlikely ally?”

Derek remembered this easily. The Argents had joined them because they thought kitsune were more intelligent and less 'savage' than werewolves. Beacon had remained neutral and had in influx of immigrants for that reason, as had York. Humans fled Silverdale to Beacon in order to stay out of a war that didn't concern them, but the _werewolves_ living in Asia suddenly found themselves on the cusp of a political propaganda war. Argents hated werewolves and were eager to tell anyone who would listen that werewolves in Asia would rise up against them all and slaughter them in their sleep, eating their young and raping their omegas. Werewolves who managed to escape capture and genocide had fled to _York._ If an Asian werewolf was in Beacon it meant she couldn't make it to York's borders in time or...

“She's a plant,” Derek realized in horror, “She's been there for _centuries_ just waiting to take over the throne, waiting to claim Beacon for Asia.”

“The last realm of the humans will not be claimed for Asia, Derek” Talia replied softly.

“But the Argents _hate_ werewolves! Why would one work for one?!”

“Yet many did,” She replied miserably as she rolled up the map, “There were those who agreed, hated their own kind, and turned in entire packs to face mistletoe gas chambers during the war. Satomi's name doesn't show up anywhere, believe me I've checked, but the Ito name was one such pack of dissidents. Their alpha had turned them all by force and they were bitter. The Argents killed that alpha, freeing those beneath them of any gender to join them and exterminate those they felt had wronged them: their own kind. The Argents have always played a long game, Derek. There is no doubt in my mind that Satomi is one of theirs, and with that comes Stiles. Willingly or not, and I know you think you connected with him, but I _strongly_ suspect that he was willing. I am so sorry, Derek, but the war we are preparing for is a defensive one, not offensive. We must close our borders and brace our people for famine and violence. We can't go rescue Stiles, assuming he really even wants it, because war is coming to _us._ ”


	15. Chapter 15

“This is _lovely!”_ A blonde woman cooed, studying the fabric in the tailor's shop, “What's it called?”

“Blue Oat,” He replied proudly, “It's quite popular with the prince.”

“Blue _oat?_ What a ridiculous name!” She laughed, “Still, I can see why the prince loves it. I'd like some knickers made in this color.”

“M-madame?!” He stammered, completely scandalized.

“Oh, relax, it's not for me. I don't crossdress! It's for the prince. I take it you know his size?”

“Most omegas make their _own_ knickers,” He hissed in horror, “And that is a _very_ inappropriate gift!”

“You'll do as I say,” She smiled, pulling out a bag of coins, “Or I'll cut off one of your hands.”

The tailor felt the blood drain from his face in the face of such callous threats. She had a mad glint to her eyes and his darted to the door, but she just laughed lightly.

“The peacekeepers won't help you, sweetie,” She cooed, “They're all in my pocket, and my pockets are deep. Why do you think I'm making decisions about the prince's knickers?”

The man took her order and watched in horror as she walked out the door with her hips swinging in her patent wolf-skin pants. He followed her out the door, but she glanced back, aware of him, so he didn't go further. She was heading towards the palace and that was all he really needed to see.

XXX

Satomi guided Stiles into the library, him on her arm like the candy he had become. His belly was growing quite a bit and he was just starting to waddle despite not being very far along. Deaton had confirmed three heartbeats, which meant two cubs in his belly. That coupled with his slender figure made him look more advanced than he actually was. Deaton didn't promise that both twins would live, but Stiles had his hopes.

Unfortunately, Satomi had _not_ lowered her guard as Stiles got more round. However, most alphas got comfortable with even a recalcitrant omega when they got to the later stages of pregnancy. They weren't likely to run far from home, if at all. They had needs to be met, and part of that was a nest in a safe place where their cubs could be born. At this point it was looking like if Stiles wanted to bolt he would have to do it _right_ before he gave birth. That was less than ideal. The fastest way to the Hales was over land, through the thinner section of Argent land, but the Argents were hostile to werewolves and had old beef with Beacon so he'd have to go by sea. That took a long time and Stiles didn't want to give birth on a _boat._ Chances were slim that it would be sanitary.

Inside the library waited a familiar face, and Stiles felt all the puzzle pieces click into place.

“Katherine Argent,” Stiles greeted softly.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Satomi scolded, “Omegas should be seen and not heard.”

“Oh, Satomi, I'm sure that we can give him a little more freedom than that. It's good to see you, Stiles.”

“You don't know him as I do,” Satomi told her, “He's not broken yet.”

“He will be,” She smiled softly, “Just as soon as I steal his claim from you and take his babies away.”

Stiles' gut clenched. She was a werewolf hater. There was no way in hell that she'd let any werewolf cubs live.

“Relax,” She spoke to him like he was a kid who had had a nightmare, “I'm only teasing, honey! I don't want _you!_ Crowns are _heavy._ However, if you try to run I'll be the one who fetches you, so don't suspect for _one second_ that you're getting away from Satomi. I'll claim you, keep you in my lands until you give birth, then send Satomi her cubs and slit your slutty little throat!”

Stiles swallowed hard, horrified as his hand flew protectively to his belly. Her plan would work. Stiles wasn't important: his cubs were. Running from Satomi would be easy. Running from this woman would be near impossible. She was young and used to tracking werewolves, and Stiles was newly turned, pregnant, and untrained. He was trapped.

“So,” She stroked his cheek with one sharp fingernail, “Time to stop plotting, don't you agree?”

Stiles' eyes dropped and he nodded. In the months had passed he hadn't let himself succumb to the sorrow building in his chest. He'd been angry, frustrated, and in some cases sad, but he hadn't gotten to the point of resigned until now. To his absolute shame his eyes started to water, his bottom lip trembled, and before he quite knew what was happening he was sobbing brokenly. The horrid woman wrapped her arms around him and petted his back.

“There, there,” She soothed, “Now that you know that Satomi _isn't_ the worst thing that could happen to you I think you'll settle in nicely.”

Stiles nodded, shaking with sobs and blubbering miserably. Satomi led him away and he was placed back in his rooms where he spent most of his time. For several minutes he just let himself weep, letting it be as loud as he wanted before he forced himself to calm. He made his way to the doors and knocked for the guards. One unlocked it and opened the door with a questioning look.

“I'd like to see my father, please,” Stiles asked, eyes lowered and bottom lip still trembling.

“Look who finally broke,” Ethan mocked, “Come on. He's been asking for you.”

Stiles hadn't been able to keep his father as guarded as he'd wanted, but they hadn't murdered him as he'd feared. Satomi insisted that she didn't want the people to hate her and he would die on his own eventually. Stiles still hadn't gone to see him because he couldn't face him. Not only were the conditions he was in hell on Stiles' werewolf nose, Stiles couldn't begin to tell him what had happened. He'd failed. Miserably. It was daunting and awful and Stiles had been so, so ashamed, but now he was starting to realize that he wasn't going to be going anywhere. He might as well see his father and spend what time with him that he could.

Noah looked _awful._ He had lost more weight and for a moment Stiles was so overcome with regret that he just stood there with his hands over his face and felt sick. He should have been here sooner. He'd lost _months_ of time with his dad!

“Siles?” His father wheezed.

“I'm here, dad,” Stiles forced out, hurrying forward and taking his hand, “Hey, I'm sorry I was away for so long. I'm _super_ pregnant and I-”

“Siles?” He asked again, blinking up and around himself vaguely.

“I'm here, can't you... I'm right here.”

“Siles?”

Stiles stepped back a moment, breathing fast. He knew what this meant and it hurt so much, but at least his father wouldn't worry about him. He'd never worry about anything else ever again. His dad was essentially gone, just a shell holding onto life. Stiles doubted he would live past seeing him one last time. Stiles took his hand and placed it on his belly, because at the very least he was going to introduce him to his grand kids.

“Here they are,” Stiles told him gently, and watched as his head turned a bit and his eyes tracked over Stiles' face without any real recognition, “Your grand babies! Two of them, isn't that amazing!”

“Siles?”

“I'm in a real pickle, dad, but I'm going to make the best of this. I have to. I have babies to look out for so... so I'm going to do what I have to do to keep them safe. I'm not happy, but I will be. I'll find a way to be. So I don't want you to be worried about me.”

“Siles?”

Stiles leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Good night, Dad.”

Stiles paused before leaving and pulled the quilt off of his bed, changing it out for a fresh one from the linen cabinet. Stiles went downstairs and when he passed Satomi and Katherine talking together outside of his rooms he knew they had been there intentionally. They grinned when they saw him with the blanket and he lowered his head in shame.

This was what Katherine had meant when she'd said it was time for him to accept his fate. Piles of pillows and blankets had been provided to him but he had yet to begin nesting. Now he moved past them unhindered solely because he was doing what they wanted him to do. He made his way a floor and three doors down, close to the dancing hall. There he opened the door the music room, breathing in deeply. It had been cleaned since he and Derek had fucked against the chalkboard so he couldn't smell them in the air, but the memories were comforting to him. Stiles made his nest in the area his desk used to sit before it had been converted back into a music room only and, piling up his father's blanket as the base and then wandering the castle to find pillows and blankets to pilfer from others. His guards wandered after him, but they lagged further behind now. Satomi and Katherine quickly lost interest as well. They all knew he wasn't going anywhere, not once he'd started nesting.

Stiles was glad he was stronger now that he was a werewolf, because otherwise he would have had to ask for help to get the settee from the library all the way to the music room. It was on the same floor, but it was on opposite sides of the castle. When Stiles got his nest together he sat himself down on the settee, wrapped his father's blanket around himself, and stared at the blackboard where his last happy and free memory had happened.

Satomi peeked in on him before turning in, but Katherine was nowhere in sight. She chuckled at him, her tone warm and alphanizing, and then left him to sit in the dark in the music room. His guards chattered outside for a while and then eventually fell silent. Stiles shuffled out after a while to use the chamber pot, but only one of them followed this time.

So went the next few days. Stiles built up his nest a bit more at a time, and the people around him _finally_ relaxed their guard. One night when Stiles went to head to the chamber pot, shuffling along with a slow gate and a full bladder, the guards didn't bother to get up at all.

Stiles left the chamber in relief, hand on his lower belly, and wandered along the halls for a bit to see how long his luck would last. When no one came after him Stiles headed for an exit at random, pulled out his kit, picked the lock, and slipped out into the yard. He took a few breaths of fresh air in relief. It smelled so damn good and he hadn't been outside in so, so long!

“My Lord?” A guard had headed towards him from the outer gates

“Mm?” Stiles sighed, staring up at the nearly full moon.

“We should head back in, my Lord,” He suggested gently.

“The moon is almost full,” Stiles sighed happily, staring up at it, “Isn't it beautiful?”

“Ah... yes, but...”

“Just a few more minutes, please?” Stiles sighed, rubbing at his heavy belly, “It calms them. They always sleep better after I bask in the moonlight a bit. No doubt that they're werewolves, eh?”

“Uh...”

“Do you want to feel? They're still moving a bit. Just starting to fall asleep.”

Omega's rarely let strangers touch their bellies when pregnant. It was a sign of trust and closeness, and the guard stared at his belly with open want. Stiles was a symbol of desire and fertility and was _letting him near_. Letting him touch. Letting him _feel_ the proof of the life he was growing inside of him. The guard stepped forward, slipped off the gauntlet and glove beneath it, and put his hand over Stiles' round belly. He stared down at him in awe for several minutes, just waiting for the baby to move.

They were still for several minutes, just frozen in time and close as lovers. A baby provided a kick and the guard let out a nervous, shocked laugh. His eyes wide and face fixed in wonder and amazement.

“They're really in there.”

“Yes, safe and sound. For now,” Stiles stated sadly, “Until I can't protect them anymore... or they me.”

The guard hesitated for a moment, biting his lip and considering what he should do, and he'd never know that that hesitation saved his life. Instead of sending him inside the guard glanced towards the guardhouse, checked the time by the moon, and then grasped Stiles' wrist and started pulling him towards the gate.

“You're not wearing warm enough clothes,” He told him in a panic, “You can have my overcoat. I'll hit myself over the head when you're gone. Tell them you overpowered me. Take this.”

The man shoved a bag full of coins into his hand, then a knife for his protection, and then threw his cloak over his shoulders. For a moment he stood there staring into Stiles' wide, terrified eyes, and then he pressed a firm kiss to his lips and whispered _go!_

Stiles fled out through the other side of the gate, down the stone steps, hand under his belly and breath fast. Stiles made it to the outer gate before he was stopped. Katherine slid out of the shadows with a crossbow in her hand and a smirk on her face.

“No!” Stiles sobbed, “Oh, no! No! No!”

  
“I knew you'd r-”

Stiles slashed his claws across her throat, spraying himself with her blood. The panic was gone from his face, the act dropped now that his sweet little omega routine had gotten him this far. He knew she wouldn't be able to resist gloating over his blind terror of her. What she hadn't known was that Stiles had known true fear ever since his mother had died. Panic attacks that had left him screaming in terror. He had survived his own mind, he wasn't going to go to pieces because an alpha werewolf and a crazy werewolf hunter threatened him. Stiles squared his shoulders, adjusted the hood to hide himself better, picked the lock on the outer gate guard door, and slipped inside the room. Inside two guards were sleeping in cots, the others on patrol.

Silent as a mouse, Stiles looted them of everything they had, pissed in their chamber pot because _pregnant_ , and then headed out the other side, down the stone stairs to the portcullis, picked the lock to leave the castle proper, and stepped into the streets of Beacon for what he strongly suspected was the last time.

Stiles didn't look back as he slipped down familiar alleys and down to the river. He would never see his father again, perhaps never Scott either, but this wasn't about them or himself. It wasn't even about his precious cubs or country anymore. Stiles was running for the life and future of his _world_. If the Argents had their way Beacon would only be step one to spread across the world, slowly slaughtering werewolves as they went. They needed Beacon to do it, and as Stiles climbed into the tree fort on the river side that he and Scott had spent their childhood in he was sure that they knew Beacon's secret.

For a moment he looked over a map a midst the many emergency supplies he kept beneath the floorboards there. Then he began carefully taking note of all the fields and city markers. He would have to move very carefully. It wasn't safe for werewolves in Beacon Hills, but not because the borders were basically closed and the king was phobic. It was because of the view across the river that Stiles could clearly see from the window of his childhood tree house. An entire hill covered in purple flowers, followed by another behind it, and another in the distance.

The bright flowers were nearly luminescent in the moonlight, and they weren't a picky weed. They grew in most any soil but like with most plants, if given the _right_ conditions, it would absolutely _thrive,_ taking over any unsuspecting area and choking out the rest of the plants _._ Which was why any field not constantly tilled, any portion of the ground not covered with a double layer of cobble stones like those around the castle, any gap in the trees in the forests, and every unpopulated hill across Beacon was covered with wolfsbane.


	16. Chapter 16

“Wolfsbane?” Derek asked in horror, “I was there for nearly two weeks, I never saw a single flower or smelled more than the stock they used to keep us in line during mating!”

It was four months since he'd been in Beacon, two since he'd heard that Stiles was enamored with him and wanted to be rescued. The winter weather had prohibited travel for a while, but now that it was over Derek was pleading for his mother to let him go to Stiles. She was adamant and Derek was losing his mind, so she'd finally relented and given him a reason.

“Of course you wouldn't,” She replied, “Claudia hated the flowers. She said if they were poisonous to werewolves they couldn't be good for people. It causes hallucinations in humans in many forms. They call it Sickweed there, and it's despised by all and sundry but they can't kill it off without extreme action. When Claudia married Noah she had the entire gardens surrounding the palace covered in coals and baked to ash. Once they were burnt out she put fresh soil over top that was shipped in from Silverdale where the soil is less prone to grow the weed. She planted an entire new garden, devoid of the plant.”

“Yes, but how would I not have seen it on my _way in._ I walked through the town proper! We all did! If it's everywhere and they're used to it- _”_

“Do you really think they wouldn't weed out plants toxic to _werewolves_ before having a hoard of them brought in?” She scolded, “It's not as if they don't know the plants are a menace, though I'm not sure how many are aware that they're especially toxic to werewolves. The lore is different there. Beacon Hills was named thus because of a holiday in which they set the fields aflame to get rid of as many of the plants from free-growing areas as they could. The controlled blazes would cause hallucinations in anyone downwind and it became a sort of festival in which all the adults would get together to burn out the Sickweed and then spend a night of stoned revelry touring the taverns.”

“That's a pretty embarrassing way to name a town,” Derek frowned, thinking of the first time he'd gotten drunk off of aconite wine and puked all over his uncle's shoes.

“We're named after a pudding,” She pointed out, “We all have our prerogatives.”

“Pudding is better than a mind-altering drug and an insane party that likely resulted in deaths.”

“Oh, absolutely, the suicide rate skyrocketed those nights, but without the blazes they would eventually kill crops so it was a necessary evil.”

“Then how the hell was Stiles planning on living there? Someone turned him before I mated him, and he was going to raise _werewolf cubs.”_

“Probably with a great deal of care and not letting them into the woods until they were old enough to know how to avoid wolfsbane,” She replied, “Or he'd be moving to Silverdale since, as I keep explaining to you, _they're in an alliance to destroy us._ Either way, you're not focusing here. If the Argents get their hands on Beacon they'll have more wolfsbane then they could ever grow even if they devoted every single field they had to aconite instead of crops. We'll all be easily murdered, Derek.”

“Then why not go to Beacon's defense!”

“We can't move on a country that we can't march across!”

“Then what should we do?! Sit here!”

“No, plan out our defense _here_! We have to amass guards at the border and- Where are you going!”

“To Beacon! If an army can't get there, than perhaps one person can!”

“Derek, we don't have time for your romantic-”

“Who exactly are you going to put on the throne, huh? He isn't with them. I _know_ he isn't!”

“You didn't read his mind, Derek, you just fucked him! You're letting your hormones control you!”

“He's the _proper king_ , and this wouldn't have happened if he could inherit! The laws are wrong and _you_ are wrong!”

Derek stormed off to his room, refusing to listen to his mother any more. He had to get to Stiles. Fast. The problem was that he didn't know _how_ to get to him. He wanted to rush in and kill anyone in sight, but it wasn't just Stiles in there and chances were high that he wouldn't be keen on leaving his loved ones to die. Omegas were sentimental like that. So Derek spent some time searching maps and made a plan to ride to his friend Lord Boyd's house to ask his help. He and his mate, both betas, were Derek's packmates and the ones he was sure would happily disobey Talia for him.

It was insane to go against his pack alpha, even as an alpha himself, but he had to get to Stiles. It had already been so long, and he was likely traumatized. He might never see the clever, sexy omega he had met at the ball again, but he would do right by him anyway. Even if Stiles never wanted Derek to touch him again he could be a father to his cubs.

Derek had devoted too much time to arguing and none to planning, so he spent a few days organizing his plans, writing to his friends to bring in allies, and collecting antidotes to various types of wolfsbane. He was a day away from leaving when one of his friends who worked in the guard knocked on his chambers and gave him a sheepish look.

“Ah... my Lord...” He grimaced.

“What is it, Isaac?” Derek frowned.

“There's a strange rumor going around town and... it involves you so I thought you should hear it.”

“Okay,” Derek waved him on, but turned back to his maps and lists. He really didn't care about a rumor.

“A young omega appeared, round with child, in Lower York the other day. Supposedly. He, uh-” Isaac was cut off from his sentence when Derek shot to his feet.

“Moles? Pretty face? Sharp nose and sharper tongue?”

“I haven't seen him,” Isaac frowned, “It's just a rumor. For all I know it isn't true.”

“Tell me the rest.”

“He's been trying to get to the palace, claiming that he's carrying _your_ sprog. Says he's a farm boy.”

“Farm boy?” Derek frowned. It didn't sound like Stiles. It had been ages since he'd last fooled around with someone, but it wasn't _impossible,_ “I don't have time for this! It doesn't sound like Stiles, but bring him here just in case. If he can be brought in before I leave I can dispute his claim or accept it. Perhaps he'll keep Stiles company once I rescue him.”

Isaac nodded and left in a hurry, and Derek put the boy out of his mind while he continued his plans.

Derek was mere minutes from leaving when Isaac brought the boy in, and Derek smelled him before he saw him. Normally a scent was a romantic thing, but this was putrid. Stiles' omega scent was buried beneath Satomi's claim, he stank of sick, garbage, and refuse. Isaac had no choice but to show him to Talia, so Derek was a step behind her in getting to the young man. He had clearly been living on the streets, but he held his chin up high and proud with eyes flashing in outrage.

“I would _never_ betray my people or plot genocide!” Stiles was stating with head held high and every inch the king he wished he could be, “Satomi and the Argent's plots are their own, but you can count one less Argent. I slit Katherine's throat on the way out of the gates.”

“Stiles,” Derek whispered in reverence. Stiles was surprisingly big for his term and he itched to touch his belly. He was beautiful despite the filth. Proud and strong and the eyes that flashed blue couldn't be from killing Kate Argent, she was no innocent, and now neither was Stiles. He had killed to survive, and while Derek should be disgusted he was _proud._ His mate was strong. _No. Not my mate. Satomi's mate._

Stiles turned to him, and his calm facade crumbled to show an intense agony and anxiety beneath it. Still, he didn't beg, didn't reach for Derek in longing, and didn't show shame for his appearance. He simply spoke, voice strong and clear like an orator.

“Claim me,” Stiles stated firmly, both hands trembling as they gripped tight into fists, “Or find me someone else if you've changed your mind, only act quickly because Satomi's claim is still on me and it took _everything I had_ to get here.”

Derek jolted forward and snatched him up, dodging his mother's attempt to snatch him back, and biting down on the gland between neck and shoulder to claim Stiles as _his._ It had to be a deeper bite than the first, the gland that provided the chemical cocktail burried beneath scar tissue and barely containing the syrup he needed to absorb into his body to make Stiles his. Derek was relentless. Stiles could take the pain because it would come with relief. Stiles immediately sagged in his arms, and when Derek scooped him up to see if he was okay he found that Stiles had fainted away. Derek couldn't very well protect Stiles from his enraged mother while holding him so he lowered Stiles to the ground and crouched over him. Talia's look of fury turned to horror when Derek bared his teeth and growled at her.

“Derek,” Talia stepped back, and waved at the staff around her almost frantically, “I'm not going to take your mate from you. Look, the guards _are moving out of his way._ You can take him to your chambers. I'll have food and drink delivered-”

“And a bath,” His father uttered in a bored tone from where he sat on his throne a few steps behind her.

“Possibly two baths-” Talia continued with a false smile, “And you and I can talk when you're bonding his through.”

Derek calmed with her words, but he was nervous about moving Stiles. Picking him up meant using both arms, his mate was fragile and gravid, and his mother had spent the last several months trying to convince him that Stiles was a manipulative tyrant set on destroying them. If his mother truly believed that she wouldn't just let Derek bond with him. She'd annihilate him and fix things later. So he crouched there, continuing to essentially challenge the Alpha not only of his pack, but of his _entire country._

Of course, Derek _was_ the second child. He didn't need to _stay_ in the country. He could just grab Stiles and run out the door and get back to _his_ country... that was being held hostage. There were threats on ever side and Derek's mind was slipping.

“Derek,” Talia pleaded, changing tactics, “Baby. My sweet boy. I always knew you'd end up with a cub before a mate, telling me off someday, but if you don't put the fangs away I'm going to have to respond. Don't make me throw you out of the pack. Not like this, baby. Please.”

“Talia, you mind?” Jethro asked, standing up and moving around her slowly so that he didn't set either alpha off.

Derek's father managed to plant himself between the two, dropping to his knees to put himself on their level with a soft smile.

“Look at my boy! Introduce me to my new son-in-law?”

Derek blinked rapidly a few times, trying to force down the urge to shove him aside to keep his eyes on his mother, but his father had always been able to calm his temper. Jethro was an omega, the one who nursed Derek and his siblings, but it was more than that. It was the soft eyes, fond half-smile, and the way he smelled like home, pine wood, and his childhood. This was his carrier, the one who had brought him into the world. Derek pulled his claws as he took his father's hand and guided it to Stiles' cheek to get his father's scent on his mate. _Pack._

“This is Stiles,” Derek told him, pulling his teeth in on the last word, “He's a sarcastic, bossy, loud-mouthed, know-it-all, and I can't get him out of my head.”

“Exactly the kind of person I always pictured you with,” Jethro smiled softly, “Why don't I help you get him to your rooms, hm? I'd tell you to give me grand kids, but it looks like you anticipated my whim.”

“Yeah,” Derek picked up Stiles, eyes carefully on his father because if he saw his mother before he was through bonding he'd go off again, “About that: they might not be mine.”

“Want to know a secret I've been meaning to tell you for ages?”

“Sure,” Derek replied, backing out of the throne room under his father's guiding hands so there were no accidental bumps along the way.

“Loving children is about the easiest thing in the whole world to do, whether you had a part in making them or not. Now, getting them to go to bed? That's going to be your _real_ challenge.”


	17. Chapter 17

The days blurred together after Stiles' first initial terrifying night and day out of the castle. He had supplies, weapons, and a belly full of werewolf cubs. He was in _agony._ His back ached endlessly, his feet were so swollen he legitimately worried he'd lose a toe from the pressure inside his shoes, and he sicked up his first meal on the road and then worried it was wolfsbane poisoning. Most of his physical symptoms were from being away from the alpha he was bonded to, and they'd only get worse the further away. He needed to act while he had the strength.

He knew the expectation would be for him to run through the woods since he was a werewolf, but he problem with that was that the any werewolf or hunter could track him and he was sure that Kate wasn't the only one in town. Stiles wasn't trained as a werewolf, so he ignored his instincts. They would lead him through patches of wolfsbane so thick they would be the death of him. He couldn't just go do the thing. He had to be intelligent about his retreat. So his first night was spent wading through the river to get to the mouth as fast as possible. In daytime he couldn't just walk through the river because he'd be noticed. So Stiles walked the shoreline in the daytime in the hopes he'd used the water as cover enough.

The sun was only up a couple of hours when he reached the docks. He had money for passage on a ship, but not enough to provide _safe_ passage. If he boarded he would be sent back to Satomi instantly. He had no rights, prince or no. So Stiles did the smart thing. He walked up to the mail building and had his things boarded onto a boat to be mailed to Hale lands. With that he got a ticket showing which boat was headed there and when. Stiles thanked the man, keeping his hood well over his head and a scarf around his face to hide who he was, and then walked away as if leaving the docks. Duty done. Back home to his alpha. Good boy.

He waited until people's attention was elsewhere, cursing the fact that a pregnant omega garnered so many stares of longing, and then slipped further out towards the docks. He had accepted the guard's coat to hide his identity, but for what he had planned it would only weigh him down. Werewolves could stay warm for lengthy periods of time, even in the barely-spring icy waters, but he had no idea if his cubs would stay warm enough inside his body. He would have to trust to nature. He could make more cubs _only_ if he were alive... even if the thought of losing them was an agony in his chest.

Stiles slipped between the crates along the loading dock, ignoring the alphas and betas who whistled at him, and leaned against a tie off to stare out at the waters. He didn't engage those who talked to him, pretending to be shy and burying his face in his coat and scarf. He was out of the way so they left him be, assuming he was waiting for someone. It took far too long before they lost interest enough for the next part of his plan. So long, in fact, that he feared he'd miss his boat.

Finally there were no eyes on him. He was hidden behind the crates and the workers were busy in another section. Stiles dropped his coat and scarf, pried off his too-tight shoes, and tied them together, then contemplated losing more clothes before ditching his nightgown. His shoes he'd keep, but his night clothes weren't going to cut it while traveling anyway. He slipped into the water in just his under wrap with his shoes draped over his neck and shoulders by their belt ties. He barely made a splash, although inside he was screaming. It was cold. So fucking cold!

The merchant ships were huge, both long and wide, some upwards of 500 tons of wood, metal, and ropes. They stocked the trade goods bound for Hale lands but would stop at Argent docks along the way. Stiles had no illusion that he would be safe on board until they left that port, but he had no idea if he could tolerate his plan for that long.

Stiles swam through the water slowly, refusing to rush despite the fear of being hunted that plagued him. He couldn't risk drawing attention by splashing about like a child at play. He'd have no explanation for being in the cold water even if he wasn't recognized, but this was a busy dock. They were working, not staring out at the water for sight of mermaids or runaway omegas. It was a long swim past the tenders- midsize boats that carried supplies and cargo to and from the gigantic merchant ships- and out into the bay. He had to swim past the rougher waters towards where the large merchant ships were docked.

Stiles slipped up along the boat carrying his package of supplies and onto the far side away from the docks and sank his claws into the feet thick wood. He clung there, among the barnacles, letting the gentler waves this far out wash over him. Sometimes he was dunked under, but he wasn't afraid of the water. He held his breath knowing it would pass and his head would emerge again. The curve of the boat would hide him from anyone looking down, he was too far to be seen on the docks, and on the wrong side should anyone look from a boat on the water heading towards this ship. For now, he was safe.

Stiles waited, enduring the cold and the wind and the waves, for an entire day. It was nightfall. The boat should have left by now, but inspectors had been scouring them. They were looking for Stiles, but the castle didn't want to let the cat out of the bag so they were just _inspecting._ The crew had no idea what they searched for and were resentful of their interference. Stiles started to listen to the crew talk and give them names to keep himself sane as even his werewolf body began to shiver in the water. His cubs kicked and twisted in his belly, chilled and afraid.

The captain, as far as Stiles could tell, snarled at the inspectors after the third stint, and told them to go to hell. He was going to miss the tide. They needed to fuck off. Finally they relented and the ship's anchor was pulled up. This was what Stiles had been waiting for and he eagerly grabbed hold of the chain and let it pull him partway up the side of the boat. He had to time it perfectly. He needed to be under the curve, away from windows, but out of the damn water. He couldn't let himself be shark bait in the open ocean. He'd risked enough. Besides, he needed out of the cold water and it was already too late to dry by the sun. He'd have to hope his healing ability, already taxed by his pregnancy, would keep them all alive.

Once he was at the right height Stiles dug claws on both hands and toes into the wall of the ship and clung to the side. The boat was moving. The initial movements were nauseating, terrifying, and nearly threw him off, but in time it was less chaotic and Stiles adjusted. He was hungry, dehydrated, exhausted, and cold. The dehydration scared him the most. His cubs relied on the fluids inside his body. If he didn't drink enough clean water they wouldn't survive.

It was late into the night, Stiles was dozing while hanging from his claws, when the boat seemed to settle in a different way. The shift had changed above him, and Stiles jolted awake and listened to the footsteps, heartbeats, and voices. It was so late and Stiles was bone weary, but he still managed to drag himself up, belly in his way but determined, until he climbed awkwardly over the edge of the railing above and nearly fell stomach-first onto the deck. Shaking with exhaustion, Stiles made his way quickly to the water barrels and then swore to himself. They were padlocked.


	18. Chapter 18

Derek took his newly claimed mate to his rooms and laid him out on top of the bedding. It would have to be changed, he was so filthy, but that was his last concern. Stiles was completely out, unable to be awoken, his face lax and sweet looking beneath the grime. His mother's emissary studied him carefully and showed Derek how to drip water down his throat. Just water for now, goat milk in an hour, but he would need calories and if he breathed it in there would be consequences. If he didn't wake in a day they would have to find a way to work more into him.

Derek bathed Stiles with water brought in by very carefully moving servants, aware that the alpha was on edge. His mother was right, it took _two_ baths to clean him thoroughly, and he slept through all of it. Derek bundled him into a clean bed and wrapped him up in blankets and his arms. He listened carefully at Stiles' belly to the sound of the cubs moving around. He wasn't worried about who the father was: he was worried about them all living. They had survived the trip, but if this was more than exhaustion and a strained bond switching to a healthy one than they might not make it further. The cubs weren't far enough along to be removed from Stiles' belly should he die, and Derek was selfish. He wanted his _mate_ to live as well.

His wrists were so thin. His jaw more pronounced. How long had he been out there? Struggling while Derek debated his mother?


	19. Chapter 19

Stiles' lock picking equipment was with his things in his paid cargo, and he had no idea where that was. The longer he crept around the ship the more danger he was in. So far he hadn't encountered anyone, and he wasn't safe until well after Argent lands, if even then. He needed water. Immediately.

So Stiles tried to follow his nose. He'd helped Scott with his transformation. He would find a way to help himself now, even if his body were screaming out a longing for Satomi that his mind hated. So Stiles steeled himself and crept through the place, a naked, rotund omega with determined eyes. Down into the galley first, where his nose told him food and water lived in abundance. The room wasn't locked like the barrels topside, but the cook slept on a mat in front of the stove and Stiles had to be careful. So far he'd not caught the scent of another werewolf, so he _should_ be able to sneak around the humans who ran the ship, but this was _Stiles._ He was clumsy.

Stiles managed water easily enough, but sneaking food out of crates and barrels was another task. Salted meat to restore him from his exposure, a raw onion that he forced down despite his rolling stomach, and an apple to cool his rolling belly. He got it all and scarfed it down as he went, knowing that he wouldn't survive long if he didn't manage to keep food down. Slurps of water in between kept him going, but he couldn't seem to get enough water past his chapped lips.

Stiles realized his mistake halfway through looking for his supplies. He sicked up all the food and water he'd gotten down and stared at the mess on the floor miserably. He found his supplies and the food he'd stolen from the guard stands, eating that more slowly this time. He was trying to do this without thinking of his cubs and the pregnancy, too afraid to face the risks he was taking. If he gorged himself, it would come back up because he was _pregnant_. He couldn't just pack down the food and hide again.

In fact, the last two days were taking more of a toll on Stiles than he'd expected it to as a werewolf. He was beyond tired. Beyond in pain. His body couldn't keep his cubs alive and heal his swollen feet and exposure battered body at the same time. Two of his claws, each pinky toe, had snapped off while he'd been dangling off the side of the ship. The cold reality of the situation worked it's way into his addled brain as he was sneaking more water from the galley.

He couldn't survive another day hanging off the side of the ship, and he wasn't safe on it. The hold was frigid, but it wasn't as awful as the outside of the ship. He had to find a place among the packed crates below to stay alive for the trip, and hope that no one on board noticed the food missing and searched it. It seemed unlikely that he'd be able to stay secreted away. They knew something was up and likely suspected stowaways based on the behavior at port. They'd see the food and water gone and start searching in a day or two at least, and if Stiles kept sicking up food he'd have to eat _more,_ which would reveal him sooner.

Stiles explored the very little room in the cargo hold. It was filled so high that one could crawl across it, but not stand, only a narrow passage for access to some areas. All the crates were roped together or contained with nets. It was cold below the water level and this area was not heated. There was no padding. Nowhere to hide in this packed area. If he emptied a crate to hide inside he'd be scattering the contents everywhere. Stiles set about shifting instead. He pried open several crates and shifted the contents around, putting a little in each with the goal of emptying one. It didn't really work well, but he managed to find dried corn along the way so that was a relief. It wasn't properly edible, but his cubs decided otherwise and Stiles ended up chewing it until it was powder and devouring it.

Stiles didn't fit in the resulting partially empty crate that he'd managed to work some space into, but he laid down in the gap anyway and laid the lid over himself in the hopes that if someone glanced down a lantern's movement would make them think the weird placement of the lid was a trick of the eyes. He'd never had a wooden blanket or slept on top of a pile of books, but he'd make due.


	20. Chapter 20

Stiles woke up after 10 hours, much to the relief of Derek and Moran. He was disoriented and slurred his words as Derek pressed porridge on him.

“S'it corn?”

“No, but I could get you corn?” Derek tried.

“Only if it's cooked,” Stiles' head sagged, “And water.”

“Anything you want.”

“I want to never look at corn again, but the babies want corn. All the corn. _So much corn._ ”

“They can have whatever they want,” Derek stated, “I'm going to spoil them rotten.”

Stiles gave him a weak smile accepted a bit more food and water, and then drifted back to sleep once more. Moran decided he was out of the woods and left him with a fond smile and a reminder to be gentle with his belly. Derek blushed. He doubted they'd be having rowdy sex any time soon, but Stiles' color was coming back into his cheeks so clearly his healing had kicked in. Derek found a servant and ordered a few different corn-based dishes made and laid down beside Stiles to hold him while he slumbered.


	21. Chapter 21

“I can't believe that worked,” Stiles stared up at the ceiling above him in wonder, “I'm a genius.”

In reality, most of what had transpired had been an accident, but Stiles' quick thinking had been truly inspired. Stiles had been sick and miserable the entire time, puking into his piss bucket and feeling absolutely wrecked. The problem was, because Stiles had been throwing up the entire time he hadn't been sleeping during the day shift as usual. Which meant the second the ship stopped heaving all over the place- and Stiles did as well- he'd started sipping at his water stash and munching corn kernels to settle his stomach. He'd paced the area to stretch his legs and calm the cubs kicking about in there in a rage.

He'd been so focused on being miserable that he hadn't heard someone approach the overhead hatch. When it had opened he'd had to throw himself behind some crates in a hurry, his baby bump sticking out at an odd angle while he tried to flatten himself. Luckily the chap who came down the folding ladder headed _away_ from where Stiles was trying to make himself small. After a lot of shuffling and the removal of a few nets he opened up a crate, brushed aside the blankets and straw protecting the contents, and lifted the huge item all the way out to set it on the floor.

Stiles heard him let out a low whistle and his curiosity got the better of him. He peered around to see what the man was looking at, not realizing that this was in fact an _awful idea._ The goal of the crew member had been to check on a _mirror_ that was being shipped across the sea. The Silverdale artisans made the best mirrors and they were in high demand; Stiles' mother had had one and he wasn't surprised to find this one on it's way to York despite hostilities. What did surprise both Stiles and the crew member was their eyes meeting in the hazy mercury-backed reflection of the gigantic standing mirror.

Stiles wore only linens scavenged from crates, and his pallor matched it from being spectacularly sick all day. Upon being discovered his mouth slowly opened in silent horror. The man mimicked his look in a silent scream, as he gazed into the mirror at what must have looked like a specter to him. He let out a terrified wheeze, choking on his tongue in his fear, and spun around just as Stiles jerked himself backwards and into hiding.

Stiles heard the rustle of his clothes as he turned again, and this was where the omega princes' quick thinking came in. He recalled the heightened superstition of sailors and rather than stay hiding he leaped out again in time for the man to look back into the mirror and see the 'ghost' reaching towards him with face twisted in rigor.

The man did manage a scream this time, and Stiles barely got back into hiding before he was scrambling up the ladder again.

“POSSESSED! THE MIRROR'S POSSESSED!”

Stiles didn't trust his luck holding out again. He quickly covered his piss pot with ash that he kept to cover the stench, hid it beneath a tarp in the corner, and scrambled into the crate he'd partly cleared out for himself. He struggled to pull the bags of corn over himself until he was well covered, reached out, and tugged the lid shut. He'd made more room over the last two days, but it was still a tight squeeze and as the crew filtered in and out over the next hour Stiles went from stifled to gasping to _desperate._ He'd never fancied himself claustrophobic, but now he felt as if he would surely die if he didn't get out of this damn crate soon! The boxes were all being checked, so his longing for fresh air was answered when someone removed the crate lid, shouted that it hadn't been nailed down, and promptly stabbed a knife or some odd weapon into the bag of corn covering Stiles and directly into his arm!

Stiles managed not to scream by some divine intervention, and the crew woman who had done the deed was soon being berated for damaging the goods.   
  


“Do you want the rats to have an easier time getting to the goods?!” The first mate shouted, “You've torn the bag in twain! Nail it shut and be done with it! If someone's inside they'll be a corpse by the time we land. Ghosts in mirrors! Of all the insanity! Higgins! Search the aft side!”

Stiles bit his hand to stop from revealing himself as they nailed the crate shut. He had visions of his mother's coffin swinging shut on her frozen face. The swaying of the ship became the lowering of the winch. The scuff of their boots became the dirt thrown on top. Stiles barely kept himself from kicking his way out of the crate before they had left, but he just barely managed it. Too late it occurred to him someone might stay behind to see if a stowaway revealed themselves after the hatch dropped, but good fortune was with him again. No one had thought to play such a trick. Stiles clambered out of the crate, slamming his rotund belly into the corner, and crouched there gasping for air as if he'd nearly drowned.

It took him some time to realize what he'd done and carefully prod his belly. His cubs kicked back and Stiles hoped that meant they were alive and unharmed. The bruise on his belly was already healing, and when he had the presence of mind he checked his arm to find the wound closed and puckered. He wouldn't even scar.

“That was too close,” Stiles told his cubs, rubbing his belly gently, “Sorry, little ones.”

Stiles spent the next hour finding several other hiding places in his cramped prison. The mirror had been put away, but now that he knew that crate was mostly straw and a mirror he thought he could easily hide beneath the huge thing. He opened up the back so that he could slide into it like a hatch at moments notice, using some bricks that were being shipped in to prop it up so the heavy glass and wood decor didn't fall on his head.

What worried Stiles was that the new suspicion would mean they'd put something heavy over the hatch, trapping Stiles in the hold. He had access to the water barrels being stored there, and some food being transported, but he'd be unable to empty his piss bucket and eventually that would draw attention. However, there were several hatches leading down into the hold and the crew couldn't very well block them all. The one above the mirror did get that treatment, but the rest remained open. The difficulty was that Stiles had set himself up there because it was right below the galley. It was warmer from the stove and the access hatch didn't creak. He'd have to work around it. In the mean time he was listening to the crew above vow to each other that they'd not go down into the hold until the voyage was over and the mirror offloaded.

The story of The Screaming Omega was told over and again above him, getting more elaborate yet as they thought up backstories and dreamed that she visited them and told them her story. When Stiles did go topside he carefully wrapped himself in linens in case he was seen, and at one point it likely saved him. When the crew member saw him he put up a hand and let out a miserable wail, causing them to flee. He quickly made his way back to his hiding place, but aside from a glance down the hatch no one attempted to enter his space. Stiles decided to up the ante just to keep them on edge more and wrote in blood on the wall of the galley. It was just a random symbol, nothing with meaning, but the crew devoured it and Stiles was a legend by the time they landed in York.

Stiles hid inside the mirror crate because it was likely bound for the castle and congratulated himself for a successful adventure. He'd pop out in some royal person's chambers and announce his intention to be Derek's mate... if he'd still have him. Without the sweet smell of unclaimed omega he might be uninterested, especially with Stiles carrying some random cubs that might not be his. If not, Stiles would happily offer himself up to a servant if it got him away from Satomi. Her claim on him was like an insect boring under his skin. If he hadn't been on a ship he'd have gone running back, the pull was so intense the longer he was away from her that he'd taken to gnawing on his own fingers in distress. He needed to be re-claimed by a _safe_ alpha. Immediately, less the continuing trauma of being away from his bonded permanently harm his mind or his unborn young.


	22. Chapter 22

Stiles didn't wake up sweet and soft the second time around. He woke up with a jolt and dug his claws into Derek's arms where they wrapped around his body. He growled and snarled and tried to twist around in the bed to tear his throat open. Derek shouted him down, gripping his wrists and holding him at arm's length as blue eyes flashed at him in the darkened room.

“Stiles! It's me! It's Derek! _Your mate!”_

“Oh!” Stiles blinked rapidly, “Oh, Derek!”

Derek expected an apology or tears to follow what had clearly been a nightmare, so he started to wrap his arms around Stiles only to nearly be head butted by Stiles' frantic attempts to kiss him. Stiles had gone from slumber to vicious to ravenous in a matter of seconds. Derek found himself beneath the omega, with Stiles' fecund belly pressing against Derek's own while Stiles shimmied out of his clothes.

“I need! I need!” Stiles gasped out, reaching for Derek's nightgown.

Derek was more than on board, but then Stiles went quite still, groaned, and pulled away.

“I swear, if these kids don't get off my bladder I'm going to scream! Chamber pot! Now!”

Derek pointed helplessly and Stiles struggled out of bed, shoving his hands away, and over to where Derek had had his servants put in a pot behind a screen so he needn't leave while bonding with his mate. Stiles let out an agonized groan as he pissed, followed it up with impressively loud farts, and then whimpered a bit. Derek hovered and wondered if he should fetch Moran again. Infections could easily set in, and while his body was demanding he get his scent inside _and_ out of Stiles, there were more important things than sex.

Finally Stiles came out, moving more cautiously with tired eyes. He swayed on his feet and Derek jolted forward to catch him and gently guide him into a chair.

“Ugh, you must be so done with me already!” Stiles huffed, “Welcome to your heavily pregnant mate, who isn't even close to delivering! I'm the size of a whale and twice as whiny. Hope you can cope.”

“You're gorgeous,” Derek assured, dropping to his knees in front of him to comfort him.

Stiles eyes dilated, his lips parted, and he let out the most delicate sound of wanton need Derek had ever heard. Their lust returned undaunted and Derek grasped the back of his head and pulled him forward into a hungry, teeth filled kiss. Stiles growled, his wolf close to the surface. Untrained. Blue eyes flashing. His mate was practically feral, his need overwhelming any attempt to think through his situation. How he'd managed to get to Derek without getting himself killed was absolutely stunning and Derek was ready to worship him. Farts and all.


	23. Chapter 23

Stiles barely kept himself from puking as the crate he was in was dragged out of the docks. The _entire_ crew had shown up to unload the hold, being too afraid to enter it in the pairs and trios that would normally drop down to tie up the boxes and attach them to the winch that pulled them free from the depths. There were mutters and prayers, some flowery mixture thrown on everything, incense burned, and many loud utterances of divine beings names in an attempt to ward off the ghost.

It was dizzying to be lifted up, dropped low, and then shifted around in a wagon. Finally he was unloaded and left still. The extended time in the box, with no way out and heartbeats all around, resorted in him pissing himself. Way to ruin the bath he'd snuck before hiding away again. He didn't want Derek to see him for the first time in a ruined state!

What Stiles' exhausted brain hadn't factored into his plans was that he was now in _werewolf_ country. Even had he not stank of distress and piss, there was no missing his heartbeat inside of the box. What Stiles thought was him being placed down in a storage area and left alone until the mirror could be shipped to the next area was quite the opposite. Stiles made sure the mirror was still propped up safely, kicked out the crate's weakened side, and shimmied out to find himself... in prison.

Stiles stared around himself in shock. It was awful. Not filthy like the prisons he'd visited while learning about State during his tutoring days: evidently werewolves couldn't abide even their least of people stinking of refuse. It was, however, cold and damp and had not a single place of comfort to lie his weary body down. Stiles tried the door, the window too far above his head to reach in his heavy state, and the walls inch-by-inch. He'd nearly doubled his belly size in the three weeks they'd been sailing while gorging himself on carbs and dried, heavily salted meats he'd stolen away. He'd kill for a fresh vegetable. The limes he'd managed to smuggle away were bitter on his tongue and made him retch. Now he couldn't even get water for his parched throat and there was just a tin on the floor to piss in!

Stiles waited for hours for someone to arrive, and when they did they just expressed relief that he was finally out of the box so they could deliver the mirror. They implied heavily that he might have tampered with it, but removed it while completely ignoring his loud pleas for assistance.

“I'm Derek Hale's mate! Look! Pregnant omega here! I need to talk to _Derek Hale!_ There's been an emergency and we were separated. If you just tell him I'm here!”

They didn't even glance his way until they were about to leave, at which point someone pointed to him, uttered about food and water, and then gave him a scathing look.

  
“Your parent's names, child?”

“I'm not a child, I'm _with child!”_

“When you're ready to admit you've ruined yourself and give us their names let the guard know,” The man stated, “Until then there's no point casting disparities on the prince. They'll not be heard here. You've caused enough damage to yourself with your loose ways, don't drag others down with you. If you promise your parents to work hard the rest of your life and not burden them with more unwanted whelps they'll likely take you back. If not there's the orphanage for the brat and the nunnery for you. Be glad you aren't being charged with treason. A beta or alpha would be headed for the noose for trying to sneak into the castle.”

“So charge me!” Stiles snapped, “Before the queen! She knew my mother, they were friends! I-”

The two betas walked away, eyes devoid of thought or care. Stiles sat down on the stone bench and fought back tears. He wouldn't cry, damn it! He wouldn't! He wasn't some omega stereotype who fainted and wept and begged for an alpha to help them at every turn!

(He did cry, but he waited until the guard's snores met his ears. He had his pride.)


	24. Chapter 24

Derek helped Stiles haul his nightgown over his head but stopped the Omega from dropping to the ground with him. He worried for his delicate state, and Stiles' waning energy only made it more evident that his mate wasn't up for sexual gymnastics just yet. Werewolf or no, he was healing for _three_ and was past the middle of his term. He needed to be pampered, and Derek would give him that. Too long had he gone without his mate, his body craving an alpha to protect it, fighting every instinct to get to Derek. It made the alpha's heart ache. Stiles could have picked a random alpha in the town and easily raised that person up to king, but he'd done the impossible and made it across two countries to get to _Derek._ He'd never want for anything again.

Stiles growled angrily at Derek's refusal, but he gently pushed him back in the seat and whispered for him to spread his legs. Stiles whimpered, eyes glowing electric blue in the darkness, and stopped snatching at him in order to part his legs in offering.

Derek breathed out a sigh of wonder and ran his hands along thick thighs. He cupped his turgid flesh and tight little omega balls and rubbed his thumb along the slit to ease the pressure. Stiles' head fell back, eyes closed, and he gasped and writhed at the touch. This still felt knew, mainly because each time before had been rushed. How he'd regretted not taking the time to explore! Derek leaned forward to mouth at his chest where his normally flat chest formed two soft peaks. He wouldn't make milk yet, but soon he would have a pup on each breast and Derek was eager see their cubs.

“I c-can't-” Stiles gasped, “Everything is so sensitive! I'm made of lighting and I'm about to go _off!”_

Derek moaned at the thought and Stiles spilled into his hand, shaking and gasping through his pleasure as he bucked and writhed on the settee. Derek leaned back to lap up his leavings, heading Stiles' insistence that he leave his cock alone when the omega pushed at his head and hissed in discomfort. Derek licked up his fingers instead, then reached into his tented trousers and rubbed the rest of Stiles' fluids across his own shaft. He needed his mate's scent everywhere and Stiles' eyes widened in adoration at his actions.

“I need you on me, too. In me.”

“I need that too, but you're in a delicate state. We weren't even sure if you'd wake up not long ago. Come. Bed. I'll take myself in hand and work my seed into you with my fingers. You'll have your marking on and in your body. When you've rested a day I'll fill you properly. I promise.”

Stiles let himself be carried. Derek knelt between his bent legs and stared over his beautiful body while stroking his own length. His knot formed almost immediately, desperate to lock himself inside his newly claimed mate. He gripped it and let the copious amount of fluids flow while his mind screamed in bliss and desperation to do more than just take off the edge. Stiles was so sweet as he lifted his thighs on either side of his round belly to display his entrance. He smiled proudly as Derek groaned at the sight.

With chin lifted like a king he looked across his pert nose at Derek as he slipped come slicked fingers into Stiles' body and coated his passage as much as he could. In and out, over and again, and Stiles came on his digits again with a soft sigh of bliss. He dropped to sleep with a contented breath and Derek knelt over him, knot pulsing and cock erect as it would be for some time in expectation of an omega wrapped around it. He was in awe of this brilliant, gorgeous young man and his ability to bend the world to his whim. He knew when he awoke, once his body's needs were met, Stiles would turn that terrifying brain towards his own kingdom and it's needs. Derek had to be ready for him. He had so far let everything go according to other people's plans. Stiles' needed to be considered and enacted.

Derek waited until his body had calmed considerably, washed up in the bowl by the fire, and dressed himself for court. He stepped out of the room, ordered Erica into the chambers to watch over his mate, and headed for his mother's chambers at a brisk walk. This time he would be _heard._


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles lowered his eyes demurely when the magistrate visited. He knew now that he wasn't getting anywhere with words, but it was so damn difficult to bite his tongue. All the alphas and betas around him were absolutely positive that he was a simpering little shepherd or maid who had gotten himself in a family way and had ideas of greatness in his silly little head. They wouldn't even listen when he proclaimed his _title_ or held up the evidence in the form of the tattoo on his inner wrist that showed his station! They didn't even _look!_ So Stiles let things go. He let them ignore him. He rode the wave of their posturing, alphanizing ignorance and then sighed the papers committing his cubs to an orphanage and himself to a nunnery before and after they were born since parents for him hadn't been found to take responsibility and his claims were clearly _ludicrous_.

So Stiles found himself packed off to a nunnery where he was shuttered away to hide his 'shame'. At least it got him healthy food, a cold bath, and clean clothes. Stiles let himself rest for a few days to recover from his ordeal, knowing he couldn't risk his cubs and speed wasn't going to happen no matter how urgent his need. When he'd found himself as much recovered as possible he'd wrapped up what he could carry in regards to food, stole a blanket for warmth since he'd been given no warm outer clothes and it was much cooler here than in Beacon, tied a blanket to the bedpost, and climbed out the window in a fete of true luck. He knew that if he didn't act soon he'd be unable to do much more by himself. He was only six months pregnant, but was already heavy and weakening despite being a werewolf thanks to the separation from his claimed 'mate'. If he were human he'd be put on bed rest quite soon, but he had no idea how much a werewolf body could manage- not to mention the cubs he carried. If they were human...

Stiles made his way into the streets, well aware that any advantage he had as a werewolf in human towns was gone. Here people were faster than he, knew how to follow scents he did not, could contain their raging emotions, and were stronger by leagues. Stiles could be easily knifed in an alley, his story ending before it began.

He needed more luck and help than he was owed, and had less than he needed, but Stiles was a strong person and no disadvantage of birth would hold him back. No matter how much they kicked him, no matter how much they pushed him down, he wouldn't stop until his last breath left his body. What little change he could make in this world would be his. It wasn't just his cubs that relied on his efforts, it was a kingdom, and more-so, every omega born after him in all of the world.

Omegas would be trampled underfoot no more. Stiles stalked the alley's of Beacon like the ghost he'd been named, viscous and vengeful and determined.


	26. Chapter 26

Derek was silently fuming as he marched into his mother's drawing room where she was filling out paperwork. He leaned his hands on her desk and stared down at her with eyes glowing red.

“My son,” She spoke softly, not looking up, “You should be attending your mate, slaking your rage with lust is a far more productive and healthy measure than confronting the _Queen_ of this entire country.”

“My inheritance,” Derek hissed around descended teeth, “My inheritance in the form of whatever necessities we'll need to travel. My pack and I. A ship. Horses. Weapons.”

“Derek that entire country is _poisonous_ to our kind,” Talia stated, voice intentionally calm as she stood up. She adjusted her cravat and walked around her desk to pour herself a brandy. Her crisp pants weren't even wrinkled from sitting for so long. She was always the perfect symbol of control and calm. Derek, on the other hand, was going mad and they both knew it.

“He made it here, I can make it there. By the way, _how_ did he make it here? Without you knowing? How did a _pregnant omega_ from another country sneak through our borders, demand me by name, claim to be carrying my cub, and somehow I didn't know about it for... weeks? Months? How long was he living on the _streets?!”_

“He wouldn't have been,” Talia sighed heavily, “If he'd stayed at the nunnery I sent him to. The bond with Satomi would have eventually died off and he'd have had a good, if drudging, life without the burdens that he would have had on his shoulders in Beacon.”

“My cubs?!”

“ _His_ cubs, which are most likely _not yours_ , would have been sent back to Beacon to be the kingdom's future kings or queens.”

“You were _stealing his country_ from him! For what? Why?! Because he broke my heart??”

“Derek,” Talia leveled him with a cold glare, “My sweet child, I value you above my own life, but _seriously_ think about your words here. You are _not_ the center of the universe, despite that knot you can grow on your dick telling you otherwise. I made a deal with the Argents to surrender the cubs in order to avoid _war._ War that would result in thousands of deaths of our people. People who you love, have lived among, and owe your allegiance to even more than to myself. Get your head on straight, Derek. It was never his country. It belongs to the _hopefully_ not omega cubs in his belly, and now to Satomi. There has been a coup and there is no reversing that. Just be glad that I refused to hand him over as well. The Argents wanted his decapitated head, but I claimed he had taken religious asylum. Apparently he killed Kate Argent and they want revenge. Do you want to take that on yourself?”

“That filth had it coming and you know it!”

“We don't have the ability to remove Satomi Ito from power or to change thousands of years of status, Derek. There are _lives_ at stake!”

“Yes. His. _Our_ cub's. His people at the hands of the Argents, who will _not stay quiet_ , mother. You stated it yourself: their goal isn't the country, it's the _flowers._ They aren't going to just collect and dry millions of wolfsbane buds in order to keep them in silos _just in case_ we step out of line. They're going to come for us, and we are being _complacent_ while they gather weapons of mass destruction to use against us! So with me or against me, make up your decision. Otherwise, _give me my inheritance and let me go.”_

Talia studied him silently for a moment and the let out a slow, steadying breath. For the first time he saw worry crease her brow, fear in her eyes, and she poured them both a glass of aconite brandy before sitting back down in her chair as if the very castle were bearing down on her shoulders.

“I am an official. I have protocol and rules that I must follow in order to avoid the rest of the surrounding countries from coming down on us. There is a reason that we never proposed marriage between one of my cubs and Mieczyslaw, despite my love of Claudia. If we are seen to be trying to snatch up land bordering Argent it will look as if we're trying to surround and destroy them. They are a _very_ rich country that trades with everyone else, _including_ us. So far their moves are careful. Satomi is not officially from Argent, even though we know that she is a traitor and their agent. They are, in all evidence laid out, innocent of wrongdoing. If we move on Beacon, _we will be the villains.”_

“I can't just-!”

“Which is why I have no choice but to disown you the second I find out that you've snuck weapons, armor, supplies, and packmates onto one of my fastest ships and departed from the harbor before I could stop you.”


	27. Chapter 27

Derek was used to the rough clothing that sailors wore, more meant to survive the sea than keep a person in comfort, but Stiles was not. Derek fussed over him as Stiles tied the pants around his waist. He looked sexy as hell when crossdressing, and Derek had a definite kink brewing but no time to explore it. The top half of his body was wrapped in a very over sized shirt that had been slit down the middle so it could be adjusted over his frame. He tied it above his belly with another length of rope and even though he grimaced when it chaffed his sensitive nipples he made no complaint.

“It's fine, Derek, I'm not as spoiled as my dad tried to make me,” Stiles soothed.

“You should be on silk sheets and-”

“Filled with any food I crave, I know. Next time I carry your cubs I will be, but for now we have a kingdom to save.”

Derek's heart jolted in his chest- and his cock in his trousers- at that thought. Stiles wanted _more cubs,_ and with Derek as his mate. It was almost too much to bare that he had to help him into a carriage instead of into a bed. Derek's pack were on board, of course, and to Derek's surprise Uncle Peter had just... appeared with a bag and a murderous smirk.

“Oh, me? Don't worry. You're going my way so I'm just hitching a ride,” So saying Peter sauntered past Stiles and gave him a lascivious leer, “Evening, Stiles. You're looking... delicious as usual.”

“Keep walking, Peter,” Stiles replied, chin up and eyes narrowed.

“You know him?” Derek asked, putting an arm protectively around Stiles' shoulders.

“He found me while I was wandering your country and got word to your pack... for a price.”

“Do I want to know the price?” Derek asked.

“No,” Stiles replied softly, “Just keep him away from me. I'll not have any alpha try to take you from me while our bond is young. There's a _reason_ no one else would do. You're _mine.”_

Derek should have been offended by such a statement, but instead he felt only a longing to bed him that couldn't be ignored. He wasn't needed on the deck. He was the purse to this voyage, not a worker. He shouted to Boyd to mind the ship and headed down into the depths of the ship with his beautiful mate serenely walking at his side. Stiles still managed to look regal even in sailor's clothes and waddling with his heavy belly.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asked, his hands practically shaking with his longing for Stiles' body.

“Well enough to take your knot,” Stiles replied easily, eyes dancing as he glanced aside at Derek with a flirtatious wink.

“Thank glory,” Derek breathed out, “I can't go another minute longer.”

Into the captain's cabin they went, where Stiles and Derek were staying in the nicest bed, the captain opting to sleep in the first mate's so that the pregnant omega was in comfort. Stiles let Derek undress him as he rubbed his own sore sides.

“I'm feeling better now we've bonded, but I'll be bedridden soon enough,” Stiles told him, “I'm sure we have time, but before I deliver I won't be of help to anyone.”

“You're _carrying_ ,” Derek pointed out unhelpfully, “Your use for now is to grow children, birth them, and keep them healthy. Let me worry about your country while you do.”

Stiles gave him a sad look that gave Derek pause when he reached for him, “You mean, _your_ country. It isn't mine anymore. It... it never was.”

Derek ran his fingers along Stiles' jaw, staring into his eyes to impart his words. He pulled one hand against his chest so Stiles could feel his heartbeat in case he wasn't used to listening for them yet.

“Stiles, hear me, my only. I'll be king in name, but I have seen and heard you be a better king than most I've ever met. I won't take your kingdom from you. I'll rule it _with_ you. Side by side we're stronger than the Argents. Together we won't lose to them.”

“Keep your promise, and I'll make sure you never regret it,” Stiles promised him, reaching for him in longing, “I meant it. You _are_ mine, Derek Hale.”

“Without regret,” Derek growled, pulling him close for a deep, needy kiss.

For several seconds they were lost to taste and touch, tongues caressing and teeth clicking together. Stiles moaned and Derek drank down his lust. He guided his mate to the bed and onto his hands and knees were their touch wouldn't strain his fecund body. Derek undressed while studying his beautiful backside and arching back. He had moles even there, dotting his body like decoration. Derek wanted to _bite them,_ but first he had to attend to his mate who was producing slick at such levels it dripped down milky white thighs.

Normally he wouldn't produce so much outside of heat, but being newly claimed his body was acting as if it needed breeding. The goal to bond them together tighter was effecting Derek as well. He felt touch starved, but specifically for this one omega. Stiles was an obsession, and one he meant to worship in full for all their lives.

Derek knelt on the bed behind him and parted his flesh, blowing gently on his pucker to ready him. Stiles gasped and jerked away, but came quickly back with a cry of need. Derek gave his swaying balls a quick lick and followed up his taint and to his goal. Finally, _finally_ , Stiles' slick coated his tongue and flowed into his mouth. He tasted devise Sweet and musky and spicy and bitter. Derek moaned as he fucked his tongue into his hole, drawing wanton cries from his mate.

“Derek, come _on!”_ Stiles pleaded, “Fill me, already!”

“We're not rushing to the goal this time,” Derek scolded, “I want to enjoy my beautiful mate.”

“Your whale, you mean.”

“My beautiful omega who is _round_ with my children,” Derek growled, “Who I _will_ satisfy, don't you worry about that.”

Derek buried his face again, drinking up his sighs and moans. He brought Stiles over easily enough with clever fingers and an eager tongue. His own cock swayed, heavy and neglected, throbbing and full between his thighs. He could well remember Stiles' heat and the bliss he'd felt with the omega locked around his knot, milking him for all he was worth. He wanted that again. He _needed him._

Finally, Derek couldn't take it any longer. He knelt behind Stiles and lined up his length with his entrance. He didn't even need oil to ease his passage with how drenched his mate was. He rubbed some of the slick that had dripped down his chin onto his shaft just in case, but it was nothing to slide into his body all the way up to his knot. Heat and tightness enveloped him, bringing him burning pleasure and teasing him with how quickly he could end this all if he were selfish. He wasn't, and held his breath and stance until he had control again. When he moved again it was with purpose, driving into Stiles' sweet spot until he screamed and clawed the bedding. Derek's eyes rolled in his head as his knot throbbed.

“MORE!” Stiles shrieked, pushing back hard to try to take his knot.

Derek growled out and met his thrust, his knot pushed through the ring and into Stiles' body where it seated itself against his prostate and drove his mate wild. Stiles growled and howled and his every orgasm wrung bliss from Derek's length. The alpha ground his hips into the omega's plush ass and filled him with come. His body had no way of knowing Stiles was already pregnant so it did everything it could to assure it would happen. In doing so, it cemented their bond further. Stiles would carry his scent for the rest of his life. It would infuse the very locks of his hair, and Stiles would be his forever.

Finally they were both drained, and Derek lowered them both onto their sides to rest. Stiles panted for a while, but he was soon sleeping peacefully in Derek's arms. It was a sight for sore eyes. So long had he missed and wanted him, and now here he was. Derek's own omega husband, beloved and full of their future. It was sorrowful that they were heading to war. Neither of their lives, or those of their children, were assured. Derek was terrified that he would lose them all, that his life would become meaningless without them. He had feared being tied down before, but now he wanted nothing more than to find an uninhabited island, abandon the ship and kingdom, and become a quiet, peaceful farmer.

Derek held Stiles tightly while he slept and wished and wished and prayed to the moon to save them all.


	28. Chapter 28

Stiles was a strong man, despite what others claimed him to be. He knew the urges he felt were instinctive, that Derek was his destined mate, and that he'd taken extreme risk to get to him instead of letting any old alpha take him and be the next king. However, he also wasn't _stupid._ He knew that Derek was an intelligent choice for more than his scent. He was strong. Understood Stiles. Was forward thinking. He was the best option for so many reasons, and with him Stiles was sure that he could rule his own kingdom... or at least have someone rule it who wasn't a complete waste of space. Derek was a good man. He'd be good for Beacon. And if all else failed, Stiles still had an ace up his sleeve in one Peter Hale.

All this and more ran through Stiles' head on repeat as he spent languid weeks traveling back to Beacon, lazing about in a bed while Derek fucked him cross eyed and Derek's pack took in his scent off of Derek's body. When Derek began to allow it, they scent marked him eagerly. He was _theirs_ now, and the bond of pack that flowed between them made Stiles feel strong and complete in a way he hadn't known he was lacking. He was no longer a lone wolf. He was the alpha bitch, and the pack's power flowed through him. He was energized, and the weakness he'd suffered alone and pregnant ended at last. Despite being further along, Stiles found himself with less aches and pains. He slept more than usual, but no longer slept ¾ of the day away. He felt _healthy_ and pregnant, instead of overwhelmed and weakened.

So their ship pulled into a burning harbor in Beacon Hills in the dead of night, with Stiles standing on deck in alpha/beta clothes with a proud glint in his eyes and his belly full of the future. Derek by his side, with a hand on his lower back to steady his awkward frame, scowled at the world around him with cold determination.

Stiles swallowed down his tears as he stared up at the hills that grew beyond the harbor. He couldn't weep for what he saw because he knew that it was only the beginning of the horrors he would face. He could only hope that by the time this ended people could recover faster than the castle and the town surrounding it. As it was, he saw nothing of his childhood remained to him: not when ash and rock were all that remained of Castle Beacon.

No army met them as they came ashore. No one was left. The town stank of rotting flesh and wolfsbane. The smoke that came up made their pack choke and cough. All except Stiles, who calmly found them shelter and pulled out a map.

“The town is abandoned, and with it the castle. We could well go in there and sit ourselves down and declare victory, gather forces, send them out and start chasing them away-”

“We can't go near that castle,” Derek shook his head, “They used wolfsbane as tinder. Can't you smell it?”

Stiles shook his head, “I smell it, but it isn't bothering me.”

Derek cocked his head to consider him, “Either your true form isn't a wolf or you're immune from living here your whole life.”

Stiles pondered for a moment, “My mother... when she was on her deathbed your mother tried to save her by turning her. She must have been exposed to wolfsbane at some point because she rejected. I keep wondering if, having grown up here, our citizens are at a strange tipping point. My father theorized that if turned we would all reject. It was why he was so very afraid of werewolves, especially after my mother died. However, I was raised by Melissa McCall after my mother died. She was a healer like Deaton and Moran. She had a different theory. She thought that long term childhood exposure would make us _immune_ to wolfsbane poisoning. Or at least less likely to react. She couldn't test it of course, but I can't help but wonder if I am.”

“That's not something I want _you_ testing, either,” Derek glared at Stiles, “But _if_ it were true: would we be able to become immune as well?”

Stiles shook his head, “It would take years, maybe even decades, and failure would mean death. We don't have that kind of time.”

“Then we go the long route,” Derek stated, “We need a base of operations, a safe ground for you, and to rally an army right under the Argent's noses.”

“There's are bunkers where some of our people may be hiding out,” Stiles stated, “Let's check them. Chances are good that at least one has survivors.”

“Bunkers,” Derek stated, deadpan, “Plural. Just... scattered throughout the country?”

“Yeah, one directly below the castle, one in town, and many throughout the country. It was a thing my great-grandfather did for his people during the wars. Every big town had them installed, but I have no idea if they were kept up or even remembered. Hopefully they were since it looks like me killing Katherine has sent the Argents on the rampage. I wouldn't be shocked if Satomi were dead as well, since she couldn't manage to contain me.”

“Let's not bet on it. She's still a very old alpha, and she's just rebuilt a pack. She could level a younger alpha without trying,” Erica advised.

Derek nodded in agreement, “Okay, let's start at the nearest bunker. Stiles, lead the way.”

Stiles didn't so much lead as direct. Derek stayed directly beside him at all times and they had a guard flanking them at all four corners. Stiles led them to the bunker entrance, which was through what appeared to be a silo. It led to a stock of wood, dried food, and kegs of water on shelves towering above, apparently for surviving a long stretch. It was obvious it had been tapped in to, but with the city still smoldering they probably weren't emerging or had done so and fled. Stiles showed them where the hidden hatch was that led to the bunker below and stomped a pattern out on it. There was a delay and then a knock in return. Stiles repeated it. The door cautiously opened and a spear emerged followed by a nervous looking young werewolf.

“SCOTTY!” Stiles screamed, and threw himself past the spear and into the arms of the excited alpha werewolf.

“STILES! YOU'RE HUGE!”

“I'M SUPER PREGNANT!”

“WE'RE IN ENEMY TERRITORY!” Derek shouted at the two idiots.

They both gave him a shamefaced glance and hurried down into the tunnel with Derek and the small pack he'd brought on his heels. It was crowded and stank down below and Derek gagged, but there were at least a hundred people huddled down there. Most were omegas and children. Derek never understood why there was a rule to quickly hide omegas before alphas and betas. Children he understood, but omegas were _intentionally_ kept helpless and uneducated. Keeping them and their children alive in the short term was nice, but it left them defenseless... and useless. Derek was staring at the victims of war, not the potential allies he had hoped to find. They were all of them scared, dirty, and mourning those who hadn't made it.

Melissa was in the crowd, and she and Stiles were practically nose to nose as they talked about plans and wolfsbane at lightning speed. Scott sauntered up to Derek and gave him a crooked grin.

“He's really something, huh?” Scott chirped.

Derek nodded, and then headed over to his mate to get a word in edgewise. It didn't work out because he didn't speak _hummingbird_ , but eventually Stiles turned to him and nodded sharply.

“Right. Let's go to the castle and check the bunker there. If the residents haven't been _baked_ in there, we might have actual warriors on our hands.”

Stiles promptly turned and marched for the exit and Derek followed along in his wake.


	29. Chapter 29

It was difficult to approach the second bunker, and with Stiles pregnant Derek wouldn't hear of letting him go near a wolfsbane filled burning castle. Technically the burning wolfsbane changed it from a poison to an antidote, but this seemed to fall under the 'too much of a good thing' theory. There was black, billowing smoke everywhere. Even if it weren't wolfsbane, it was still bad for anyone who breathed, and adding a chemical to it only made it _worse._ Stiles was eventually pushed into staying in the first bunker with the other omegas, something that made him pout but that he admitted was for the best.

Scott led Derek to the castle instead, wet cloth wrapped around their faces as their eyes watered from the toxic air. They didn't find the bunker on the first exploration and ended up finding a place upwind to camp for a night. They tried again the next day only to find the people as cooked as Stiles had feared. There were no survivors, and the stink of burnt flesh would stay in Derek's nightmares for years.

Derek had them all wash in the river before returning to Stiles, not wanting his mate to be exposed to the filth and stink. Stiles hugged him tightly as soon as he saw his face and didn't ask about the castle. They gathered up the survivors and headed for the next town in silence. It wasn't until Derek woke up to the sound of Stiles crying in the night that he remembered that Stiles' father had been in the castle, and probably other friends besides Scott as well. At the very least people he'd known his whole life. Hell, all his memories and childhood toys meant to go to his own pups. Those material things that could never be replaced and were expected to outlive a parent. The paintings of Claudia.

Derek felt like an ass for focusing so much on survival and their next steps in this ongoing war. He needed to remember his mate was pregnant, homeless, scared, scarred, and had just had his entire world flipped upside down on him. Derek held him tightly, kissed his tears away, petted his hair, and cried with him at the very thought of his sorrow. When his mate hiccuped himself to sleep Derek lay awake and regretted not stopping at that island and abandoning the world to its own destruction. It didn't deserve Stiles' tears.


	30. Chapter 30

Gorilla warfare was absolutely awful, even for a werewolf. It had been months with Stiles being their genius strategist. He was about to pop and they were keeping him as safe as possible considering they were living in one of the many bunkers scattered around the country. They'd dug out more and the humans- on both sides- were starting to say that Beacon's hills were hollow and filled with the fae.

The difficulty was that the Argents literally never ran out of ammunition. There was so much wolfsbane in Beacon that even when they weren't in battle a wolf occasionally got poisoned when taking a piss in the woods or scavenging for food. Every advantage they seemed to have as werewolves was just _gone._ If Stiles was immune- something they still hadn't tested- it wasn't something that others were picking up in that short amount of time. If anything, they were slowly getting weaker and weaker. Stiles had watched in horror at one point as Derek tried and failed to pick up a tree to carry it back to camp for firewood. They were losing, and with Stiles at the point of constant bed rest there was little to nothing he could do.

Birthing season was upon them, right in time for last harvest, and then winter would be upon them. There was no way in hell that they could survive the winter in holes while under constant attack. Derek looked defeated and angry every single day and Stiles was just waiting until he gave birth and healed up enough to sound the retreat. It was hopeless and they all knew it.


	31. Chapter 31

Stiles felt the first twinges in the morning and exchanged a look with Melissa when it made him double over by afternoon. It was Stiles' first pregnancy and Derek still heard two heartbeats. It was going to be a very, very long labor. They were currently camping out in the woods in the process of moving between safe houses as staying in one area depleted resources and led the Argents to the area.

“Derek,” Stiles sought him out immediately once he could manage to stand up straight, “Derek, we need to get me to the nearest shelter. Immediately. Now. Like, _right now.”_

Derek was in the middle of talking to Scott and Boyd about a battle and scowled at Stiles with that distracted look that said he hadn't processed yet. Stiles was prepared to wait for him to get on the same page, but the babies were _not._ Stiles grabbed his arm and dug in his claws while doubling over as another contraction left him trying to let out slow breaths instead of hyperventilating.

“Fuck,” Derek uttered, grabbing Stiles' other arm and looking panicked, “How close? Or far apart? How _soon?”_

“A long time off,” Stiles breathed when he finally could, “It's just the start, but we need me in shelter immediately. I don't know if I can contain my screams and I definitely want my cubs safe when I give birth.”

Derek scooped Stiles up and carried him to the nearest wheelbarrow. They didn't use wagons because of the size, so awkward to carry supplies, injured, and Stiles got pushed around in wheelbarrows. Derek started pushing him towards his goal, but Melissa and Scott stopped him from just sprinting there. They still needed a guard on hand. Derek looked adorably panicked. Stiles settled into the padded wheelbarrow and was tucked beneath a blanket. He had to focus on staying calm himself and couldn't really comfort him.

The difficulty was that Stiles had been given absolutely _no_ chance to _nest,_ and that made him feel like fighting his labor. His hind-brain thought it wasn't safe to give birth because he hadn't been able to build a nest. Melissa had brought up this eventual concern more than once, but the alphas around them didn't understand and brushed off her worries. Stiles had let them. He didn't want to leave Derek's side and was the one making all the plans and directing each small group of marauders. He couldn't just go huddle down in a shelter and wait for his babies to come. Now he was regretting it, because if he fought his labor it would be even longer, more painful, and could result in one or both cubs dying.

They took half a day to reach the shelter, even while moving as fast as they safely could. Derek was sweating bullets, Stiles was biting on a leather sheath to contain his cries of pain, and Melissa was doing that intentionally calm thing that healers did that scared the shit out of Stiles because it usually meant _problem._

Stiles was lowered into the shelter in a hammock and then carted to a bed that smelled like strangers. He immediately scrambled up, threw all the blankets on the floor, and demanded his and Derek's dirty clothes. Derek hurried to supply them, then offered up Scott's as well. Over the months he had learned that Scott was family and the jealousy he had once felt was long gone.

Nest made to the best of his ability, Stiles lay in it and breathed in their scents as if it were his first taste of air in months. He was aching and afraid, but Derek was staring at him as if he were a jewel in a pauper's hut.

“I'm having our cubs,” Stiles whispered, staring up at Derek with big, wide eyes.

Derek snorted, “You just noticed? What the hell did you think happened? Over-consumption of watermelon?”

Stiles chuckled, then grimaced and moaned through another contraction. When it passed he gripped Derek's hand and smiled up at him.

“It didn't feel real? I've spent this _entire pregnancy_ running, hiding, plotting. I haven't focused on it at all. I guess I feel regret? I always pictured myself sitting in rocking chairs, rubbing my belly, eating sweets, and reading all through a pregnancy.”

“I'm sorry you didn't have that,” Derek told him gently.

Stiles shook his head, “Don't be. There are worst fates for pregnant omegas. I'm safe and- fates willing- about to give birth to two healthy cubs with the mate I love.”

Derek pressed their foreheads together, “I love you, too.”

“We're about to be parents,” Stiles breathed out, and then braced for another contraction.

Derek waited it out with him, guiding his breath and running a damp cloth over his forehead. When the contraction ended again Melissa had Stiles stand and squat so she could check his dilation. Stiles had been placed on a mat on the floor instead of in a bunk bed on the walls, which meant he had space to stand and drop as needed to give birth. Around them were two other omegas as well. One had already given birth and the other was watching Stiles with wide eyes while rubbing her belly.

Hours passed. Stiles slept, sipped various clear fluids, and kept his cries of pain below a howl. Melissa checked his dilation three times more and eventually told him it was time to push. Stiles was to stay squatting at this point, as that was the safest and easiest way for a male omega to give birth. Derek took one arm and Scott another while Melissa knelt beneath him.

This was were the trouble started, because Stiles felt a growing panic boiling to the surface. Was this because his nest was hastily put together? Or his father and home gone? Or some other latent fear that he hadn't processed yet.

“Stiles. _Push!”_ Melissa pleaded, “You can't keep them in there, they'll smother!”

Smother. _Smother!_

Stiles turned his head to meet Derek's eyes and saw worry and fear reflected back at him in his mate's eyes.

“P-promise me,” Stiles choked out, “Promise me you won't kill them.”

“ _What?”_ Derek asked incredulously.

“Promise you w-won't kill them if they aren't yours!”

Stiles distinctly heard a gasp somewhere behind him, but ignored it. Whoever didn't know he'd had eleven mates the night they were conceived wasn't his problem. Derek didn't know that Stiles had been bitten shortly after their coupling. He thought he had the highest chance of being the sire of Stiles' pups, but given the timing Stiles had put him at a roughly 30% chance. Those weren't good odds, and many an alpha had killed unrelated pups in order to cement their claim on an omega and make sure any future pups conceived were theirs by breaking the other alphas hold completely.

“They're _mine!_ ” Derek growled, eyes flashing red, “No matter scent or look, and _no one is killing them!_ ”

Stiles let out a broken cry, dropped down to a lower squat, and pushed with all his might. Any hope that that would be enough was instantly lost. Stiles wasn't even close to the end despite twenty-two hours of labor being behind him already. Stiles spent unknown time pushing, gasping, resting in the arms of those who supported him, gathering his strength, and trying again. Derek and Scott were constantly taking his pain in increments, but couldn't take too much or he'd not be able to push as easily. So Stiles felt the pain but not necessarily all of it. He barely registered his first child's birth because it had all become an exhausted blur and he'd tuned out Melissa to focus on what his body was telling him to do. Push. Rest. Push. Rest. _Push._

The first wails of his child dragged his attention to what he'd accomplished and Stiles gawked at the baby in Melissa's arms as if she'd delivered someone else's when he hadn't been looking. She had just finished clearing the baby's mouth, rubbed it quickly with a cloth to warm it, swaddled it at lighting speed, and got ready to catch the next one. Stiles had started pushing again before she had reached him, unable to stop himself, but she was an expert and got there before his second cub could fall to the floor below.

Derek was whispering encouragement in his ear as Stiles sobbed that he just _couldn't_ , but his body was going on without listening to Stiles' babbling mouth. His second child slid free and Melissa cleaned, rubbed, wrapped, and returned to Stiles who just wanted to _lie the fuck down._

“You have to give me a final push, Stiles. One more. Two at most. Come on. Once you do, the boys will take a lot more of that pain. That's your goal here. Less pain. Ready, Stiles? GO!”

Stiles pushed and the afterbirth fell to the ground along with a mess of blood. He was quickly lowered to the mat and Melissa practically shoved his legs apart to check on the amount of blood while Derek and Scott pulled pain until they were dizzy.

“He's hemorrhaged pretty badly, but his healing ability is kicking in. Stay with us, Stiles. Get me food and water over here!”

Stiles wasn't hungry. He was _tired._ He was so damn tired and needed to sleep. Immediately. He couldn't. He was being coaxed to eat, drink, and nurse two babies all at once.

_Look at them, Stiles. Look! They're here. You have to hang on so you can be with your cubs._

_Easy, Stiles, just a bit more._

_Here that? That's your cubs crying! They need their carrier's milk._

“I hate all of you,” Stiles informed them, his voice slurring, but he dutifully slurped fluids and then was propped up on pillows to stare down at two dark heads with sparse hair and squished faces. They _might_ be Derek's but Stiles couldn't honestly tell. They just smelled like Stiles and blood at the moment.

They were also _perfect._ Stiles immediately cooed in wonder and demanded someone help him get them to his teat. Derek's big hands helped first one latch, and then the other, and once they were suckling away happily Stiles looked up at Derek with big, wide eyes to find the stern alpha sniffling and smiling down at them with so much joy and wonder in his eyes that it took the omega's breath away.

“Stiles,” Derek choked out, “Stiles, _look at them._ Both girls. They're here. Everything we've fought so hard for, and they're here.”

“Yeah they are,” Stiles whispered, looking down at them in wonder.


	32. Chapter 32

Stiles took several days to fully recover, more mentally and emotionally than just physically since his werewolf healing had taken care of the tearing and strain. He needed the time to bond with his cubs as well, and to get used to the constant cries of newborns at all hours. The entire compound wasn't thrilled about it. There was no privacy and the other omega had given birth by this time so there were _four_ newborns in one small space. The werewolves especially were stressed and kept slipping out of the compound. That exposed them all to danger and the ones who resided there regularly wanted them all gone. Derek eventually relented because they had a point, and even though moving cubs was dangerous they packed up and left.

Stiles pushed the cubs in a wheelbarrow this time, glad to be up and moving around easily after months of waddling and then weeks of bed rest They made their way through the woods in the dark of night, a human and werewolf working together to guide them, dodging dangerous flowers and stray roots as a cohesive unit. It was how they'd moved for months now, the human protecting the werewolf and the werewolf the human, all shuffling along in relative silence with a single line of people and supplies moving behind them along animal trails and creek beds, the last person quickly covering their tracks as best as possible. Sometimes it failed.

This was one of those times.


	33. Chapter 33

Derek at the front, Scott taking up the rear with superior alpha eyesight. A baby's cries. A whispered threat that Stiles must silence her or the man beside him would do it for him. Stiles growling back that the bastard better not touch his cubs. Derek turning in distraction to stop a fight from breaking out in the middle of his ranks, leaving the human watching out for aconite unprotected from the dark night she couldn't see in. A flash of blue eyes, like a target in the night for anyone to see.

The Argents descended on them with flaming arrows and bolts, quickly followed by their trademark silver-tipped bullets as the group was frantically dealing with burning foliage all around them. Their signature. The way they taunted them with their unrivaled wealth and uncanny ability to hunt the predators. Derek's roar organized the werewolves and got the group working fast, spreading out and taking out as many of the hunters as they could until they finally forced a retreat.

It was sudden. Derek should have suspected how sudden their retreat was, but in the moment of relief he was too busy trying to find Stiles and figured out who had lived and died. For several valuable minutes, sand slipping down from one globe to another at gravity's powerful pull, Derek was searching the wreckage of their party for the cries of his children and the sounds of his mate shushing them.

No skirts hiked up improperly high to make movement easier. A wheelbarrow lay tipped in the middle of the woods, his children so afraid they couldn't even cry. They lay with that silence that instinct told them would keep them alive, but Derek's pride in his pups was overwhelmed with an intense fear.

“Stiles?!” Derek's eyes flashed in the dark, searching the huddled survivors and bodies around him, “Has anyone seen my mate?! Where is my mate?! WHERE IS STILES?!”


	34. Chapter 34

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Stiles hadn't even opened his eyes, but he'd been in this situation enough times to know what had happened. He'd been fucking abducted again.

“Welcome,” A beta werewolf leaned over him, “I understand you think you're carrying my nephews cubs.”

“I know he would claim them,” Stiles rolled from side to back slowly, his body aching in pain, “I'm not fool enough to be certain of parentage.”

“You are, however, fool enough to be _uncertain_ of parentage,” The smarmy man smirked.

“You look a lot like him,” Stiles stated, sitting up slowly and grimacing in pain, “If he's your nephew you know my circumstances. I'm Mieczyslaw Stilinski and I want my kingdom back.”

“You're a fool and omegas don't get kingdoms. They get full bellies, if they're lucky with food as well as pups.”

Stiles' stomach did growl at that moment, but he was getting used to that. Living on the streets tended to make one used to filth and hunger.

“I'm not lucky, I'm stubborn and smart.”

“Are you?” He asked, “A test, then. You want to get to my nephew despite my sister trying to stop you. I want to get to the Argent who sent her a poison-filled mirror.”

“Mirror?!” Stiles' eyes widened.

“Yes, one you were unaffected by despite living with for weeks. The handlers became sick. The person who delivered it died. My sister grew ill briefly but by then I had figured it out. Yet you were unaffected. I'd blame you, but you couldn't have handled that amount of aconite while pregnant without miscarrying and, of course, dying shortly after.”

Stiles' hand touched his belly where little flutters still managed despite his aching hunger and thirst.

“What sort of test.”

The beta smiled slowly, his expression predatory and vicious, “Oh, nothing too exciting. Just a political science test.”

“My favorite subject,” Stiles nodded, “Let's begin.”

“You won't ask for food or water first?”

“Can I trust it?”

The man stuck his hand out, “To be honest: I think you won't have much time to indulge.”


	35. Chapter 35

Stiles' eyes opened outside of a dream this time. No, not a dream. A memory. One of hurriedly read pamphlets and a shifty werewolf who knew too much and had too little power. Stiles was calm. He'd been careful. His cubs were safe, the wheelbarrow covering them before he'd slipped away to put himself directly in the path of the enemy. He couldn't keep his beloved ones from harm if he kept himself hidden beneath skirts and his mate's protective arm. Now that he was no longer carrying his cubs, he was free to move about the chess board at last.

Stiles was no longer the King with limited move and the game ending with his capture: that status now passed to one of his children. Stiles was now the queen. Powerful. Free moving. Limitless. Valuable and effective. To contain her impossible. To outmaneuver her required far more wits than his enemies had so far shown, yet he was still cautious. Stiles had taken down their knight in a single swipe. If they acted too fast or without his foresight he could easily fall, and with it the future of his kingdom.

Derek, his bishop, was hampered. Surrounded front and back, barely able to function and unable to capture any foe. His pawns were growing fewer by the second. His pack were diminishing. Derek mourned Erica and Boyd's deaths. Isaac was leading others and far from his alpha. The power his mate had held was stretched thin and about to snap. Stiles had to return it to him.

“Well, well, well,” A whiskey-and-cigar smoke voice reached his ears, “What have we here. The murderer of my favorite child.”

“Don't let Chris hear you say that,” Stiles replied lazily as he stretched where he lay, “He might actually grow a spine and do more than whine about you.”

The man laughed despite himself, “They tell me you're incredibly intelligent.”

“They tell _me_ I'm a walking womb and need to mind my place. Why don't they ever say the nice things to our faces? I bet they give you hell to your face, too.”

The man chuckled again, stepping out of the shadows to smirk down at Stiles proudly, “They wouldn't dare.”

“Ah. They're doing the reverse to you. That explains why I only ever hear awful things about you.”

“Oh, really?” The man walked to the edge of the quick-erect shelter that Stiles was being kept in and began examining something shiny on a tray there. Torture devises, no doubt.

“Yeah, whole lot of 'he's crazy', followed up with 'he'll kill us all someday'. I thought it was complimentary at first, but... well...”

“Do you even know who I am?”

“Gerard Argent,” Stiles recited from the pamphlet Peter had shown him, “King of Silverdale. Alpha turned beta after his mate died. Let his son rise to power, but controls him from the shadows. Political genius. Murderer. Racist. Nutcase.”

“You have quite a bit of information, but not all of it is accurate.”

“Undersold the nutcase part, huh?” Stiles sighed, “Information passed along can be so unreliable.”

“You were captured too easily,” Gerard observed, “You should know we searched you while you slept and removed all your hidden weapons. Don't worry. I made sure no one tried to _sully_ you. Not that you haven't already managed that yourself. Do you know what my people call you?”

“Slut. Cunny. The whore that would be king,” Stiles replied, “Not anymore, of course. I've yielded my power to Derek Hale.”

“No,” Gerard stated, “You haven't. You've given everyone the illusion that you have, and with that given him more than he is owed. A powerful omega, one who nearly took a country, bowing to an alpha with a strong face and a loud roar... well, they nearly fell for it, didn't they? Except you weren't just handing it over. You were biding your time until you could take it back, weren't you?”

“You got me. Traitor in skirts. It's a good look on me, yeah?”

“I'm actually quite content with Derek Hale ruling Beacon, which was why I had Satomi removed. Werewolves are weaker here. I'm happy to let them put themselves in a seat that diminishes their strength.”

“Really? Because I actually had other plans,” Stiles replied.

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yeah, I was picturing a trade. You want Beacon for it's lands rich in aconite. I'd like a place that doesn't grow it well. Let the humans live in Beacon and the werewolves take Silverdale.”

“That's insane,” He scoffed, “We're not here to negotiate, and even if we were why would I just _trade lands!”_

“We've been trade partners before,” Stiles shrugged as the man brought a kit full of wolfsbane serum and sharp knives over to where Stiles lay chained to a bed in mountain ash cuffs.

“Lands are quite a different matter.”

“Yes, it usually requires a womb to negotiate lands,” Stiles nodded, “Mine is taken, so I'm afraid we'll have to use the other method.”

“Lives,” Gerard acknowledged, “I believe we were already doing that.”

“Not at the levels you're aware of,” Stiles replied.

“What are you going on about?” He snorted.

  
“While you've been busy here chasing Derek around the country, flitting from place to place,” Stiles whispered, sitting up as the man poured the salve onto a cloth and rubbed the cloth across Stiles' bare arm. It burned, but Stiles didn't react, “I've been busy using the only blue eyes in my troop to send signals to someone who has been following _you.”_

Gerard paused a moment, and then dragged the knife down Stiles' skin. It sliced easily thanks to the wolfsbane, but to Gerard's shock it healed right away after.

“What sorcery is this!”

“We've found an antidote, Gerard Argent,” Stiles whispered with a vicious grin, “While we've been distracting you and pretending to be weakening a second force has moved into Silverdale. I'm not asking for your country. _I'm taking it.”_

Gerard lashed out, knife headed for Stiles' throat, but Stiles caught it and held it in place while his eyes began to glow electric blue.

“Why are you so strong?! We've dosed you! Twice!”

“I told you, Gerry. I'm here of my own volition. Don't bother screaming, your guards are already subdued. I've had an alpha hiding among your ranks for _months._ By now half your people are turned, more if he's moving fast, and without the antidote they'll be weak as kittens by morning if they don't kill themselves first!”

“You're bluffing!”

“No, I'm monologuing. Let me have my moment. I knew that you would let down your guard if you thought you had the chance to intimidate a weakened omega, one who killed your favorite child. Now my best friend and milk brother will marry your niece and Silverdale will be ours. Your people are being turned as we speak. Rome all over again! Humans, I'm afraid, will be a rarity that can only survive here in Beacon. Queen to king, checkmate!”

“I suppose now you will kill me?” He growled angrily, “Rip out my throat like you did hers?”

“Oh, no,” Stiles smiled softly, “You see, I promised you to someone else and he's got much more interesting plans for you. I strongly suggest you don't run. They like that sort of thing.”

Stiles released his arm, shoving him back, and lay back in the bed, content to relax until the wolfsbane they'd dosed him with fully wore off. It made him drowsy. He was drunk on it, which explained his melodramatics. It had served its purpose though, and Gerard was shaking as he backed away from Stiles' prone form.

“You're lying!” He raged, “Our stock must have been too far dried. I'll get more... you'll be a dried out husk of corn by the time I'm through bleeding you dry!”

Gerard staggered from the room and straight into Peter's arms. The man smirked as he pushed Gerard further into the room, eyes glowing red in the darkened room.

“You!” He gasped, “You traitor!”

“Oh, please, of course I'm a traitor, you old fool!” Peter laughed, “Never trust a traitor. If I was willing to turn on my own kind to gain alpha power, why wouldn't I turn on you to get _land to rule.”_

Peter sank his teeth into Gerard's arm, drawing a scream from the man who then began to plead for death. His reason soon became clear and Stiles sat up in horror to stare at him as he sank to the ground with black ooze dripping from eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. He gagged and retched while Peter watched him with indifferent eyes. Stiles had to turn away, his heart beating fast in his chest. He didn't want to see how his mother had died, but he was still chained to the wall.

It took hours to end, and then Peter sashayed over to him with a yawn and a stretch, “Well, I'm pooped! I suggest we rest here. Rejoin Derek in the morning.”

“You rest, I have babies who need milk... as soon as I drain what I have because it's got _wolfsbane_ all through it. Get me out of this.”

Peter produced the key and Stiles sat up, pulling a bed sheet with him and looking for his clothes.

“Creepy Argent, didn't have to strip me naked like a total perv,” Stiles grumbled, “Where's my petticoat?”

It appeared in his line of sight and Stiles followed the arm up to Peter's smirking face.

  
“You know-”

“No. No, don't you even _start,”_ Stiles stated, holding up a finger, “I am no more interested in you now than when I wore Satomi's claim. In fact, I'm _less_ interested. Derek is my _true_ mate. No one compares. Not even your creepy ass.”

“Pity,” He sauntered away, “We could have been _great.”_

“Yeah if you mean toxic as fuck, sure,” Stiles shuddered and hurried to dress. He had pups who were _very_ hungry and a distressed mate waiting for him. Before he left Stiles took the Argent's flag from the pole outside. He had to step over half a dozen dead guards just to leave, but then he tied up his skirts, dropped to all fours, and bolted in the direction he could feel his cubs pulling him towards.


	36. Chapter 36

Derek was numb. He was crouched in the shelter of a tree and some large boulders with his cubs held gently in his arms. They had cried themselves to sleep, their hungry cries going unanswered. Derek was alone. Even Scott had abandoned him, hopefully to do as he'd said and get to Stiles but Derek had his doubts at this point.

Derek had lost everything in one short skirmish that had been too brief to call a battle, and his cubs would follow soon if he didn't find a way to sneak through heavily patrolled woods to the next bunker with two starving pups screaming in his arms. He should move now, while they slept in exhaustion. Except he couldn't move. Couldn't face the future without Stiles. He'd _lost,_ and he couldn't even go _try_ to rescue Stiles. He'd never forgive him for leaving his cubs to chase after their mother.

“I'm so sorry, little ones,” Derek whispered. Only one was named so far. Stiles had named the eldest Claudia, after his mother, but wanted Derek to name the other and he'd been too busy fighting for her life to think up an appropriate name. It had felt like too big a task. Like deciding her fate. He was more content as a warrior than a father. It was something he already knew. Now he wasn't a leader, a warrior, and barely a father. How the hell was he supposed to go on?

“Derek,” Stiles' voice was soft as he slipped down into the grove with him, “Derek, shhh, don't cry. I'm here.”

“You... how...”

“Gerard Argent is dead. His troop slaughtered. Come with me, we can get food from their camp and rest for a night.”

“ _How?!”_ Derek demanded, even as he shifted one cub into Stiles' arms so he could pull him close and press their foreheads together, “My love!”

“Peter had a plan. It was insane so I modified it and made him follow mine,” Stiles told him gently, “Come on. Let's move. You can be mad at me later.”

“I'm not mad,” Derek told him, “I think you broke me. Did you seriously abandon your _cubs?”_

“What? No! I left them with their dad for a while,” Stiles scolded as he tugged Derek back towards the Argent encampment.

“You left them under a wheelbarrow.”

“With their _dad_ , you're supposed to be progressive. Get with the times.”

Claudia and the unnamed cub let out soft whimpers and Stiles winced as Derek spoke, “They're hungry.”

“I know, but I've been dosed with wolfsbane. I pump and purge. I can't let them have my milk for their own safety.”

“How are you walking?” Derek asked in alarm, “You should rest-”

“I'm _fine._ Melissa was right. I'm immune. My cubs probably are too, but I'm not taking a chance. Come _on._ These woods are still patrolled, the war won but battles will continue until word spreads. We aren't safe here!”


	37. Chapter 37

“Delphinieae,” Derek stated, stepping into Stiles' tent where he was finally able to nurse his cubs. They'd been given bread-sop to hold them over till he made enough milk again a few hours later.

“Hm? That a name for cub number two at last?” Stiles asked.

“No, a very, very scary answer to your immunity,” Derek stated softly as he sat down beside Stiles on the bed, “Did you know mother made us study flowers when we were little? Obsessively. I never knew why. I guess because of your lands.”

“Really?” Stiles glanced up, “That's adorable. So what kind of flowers are Delphinias.”

“Delphinieae,” Derek corrected, “It's a tribe that shares a commonality with Aconite. Delphinieae are poisonous to humans, but not to werewolves. Many look very similar, and if you're harvesting an entire field of them you might not realize that you were gathering both up at the same time because they fight for space in the dirt.”

“Werewolves who handled your mother's mirror died, Derek,” Stiles reminded him gently, “A mirror I basically used as a roof. That wasn't the wrong plant.”

“No, but because they share a common ancestor and you grew up with them burning in the fields around your house it's possible that they guarded your body against aconite poisoning even after you became a werewolf.”

Stiles considered this carefully, “Not the aconite itself?”

Derek shook his head, “Werewolves have tried to micro-dose aconite for centuries in the hopes of building immunity. They did it even with children in a desperate attempt to protect ourselves against this terrible toxin. It can be changed into something consumable by brewing it, and medicine by burning it, but long term exposure doesn't create immunity. I was hoping Melissa knew something I didn't, but when I talked to her after you gave birth she confessed her theory wasn't sound. Of course, you already knew that.”

“Believing I was immune kept you calm,” Stiles confessed.

“Except you are. Inexplicably.”

“I have a diminished reaction,” Stiles replied, “It's most likely a fluke. Perhaps the illness my mother carried counters it in some way. Maybe you're right about the flowers. We have no way to safely test it and the aconite blooms out of control all around us.”

“Then our cubs?”

Stiles shook his head, “There's no safe way to find out. I'd rather be cautious.”

“Then we'll leave your home?”

Stiles shook his head, “No, I think your original idea works better.”

“What... idea?”

“Delphinia,” Stiles tapped his child's nose.

“We're not naming her that,” Derek scowled.

“You like it,” Stiles laughed, “But I meant the plant. You said they grow among aconite, but werewolves aren't allergic?”

“Yes, so?”

“So if we have to have a poisonous plant plaguing our countryside, why not one that isn't toxic to most of the world's population upon mere approach? We plant and encourage this other species and before you know it there won't be enough room for aconite. We'll breed them out the way werewolves bred out humans.”

Derek frowned, “That... that might actually work. It's pretty poisonous to livestock though, Stiles.”

“So is aconite,” Stiles shrugged.

Stiles stood up to shift both cubs into a small crib that Scott had hastily helped Derek build before heading off with Peter to Silverdale to claim his mate and country. Silverdale would be split down the middle, some to Scott and the rest to Peter. Derek would maintain Beacon with Stiles, keeping the land mostly human while the royal family remained nearly the only werewolves in the land. With Kira not having a mate yet Asia was understandably distressed: The Hales were spreading themselves across the globe at an alarming rate. Stiles was already making plans to soothe their worries. His mate was a genius. He would manage.

“We have so much to do still,” Stiles yawned.

“Rest,” Derek soothed, “For tonight we're safe. Let me make love to you... if you're healed enough?”

“Mm, I want to continue to change the laws. My father's cabinet are gone. They can't vote it all down.”

“We can move towards progressive laws, but the people have suffered an upheaval. Werewolves ruling Beacon will already be seen as tyrants. If we change their entire culture they'll rebel. We'll end up in another war.”

“I know, but we can make steps. Small steps. A bit at a time.”

“What are you thinking,” Derek asked as he kissed down Stiles' long neck, “In that big brain of yours?”

“I'm thinking,” Stiles sighed, leaning back against Derek, “That we can give omegas a small... option. One that allows them to have more control over who they're mated to. One that lets them leave if they're unsafe without effecting the breeding that needs to continue. Parents of omegas will embrace it, especially if we throw in a stipend.”

“So a sort of party like you had where they can mingle, chose a mate...”

“That won't work for the poor, and I won't have them excluded. The temples aren't a bad idea, but I want to make claiming _optional_ and inheritance _possible_. If we let them keep their omega children and their alpha grand kids can inherit they won't drown or disrespect omega children as much. The omegas will have at least one cub, ensuring the continuation of their family line, even if that cub is an omega as well, and our people will _thrive_. Inheritance shouldn't be restricted to alphas and betas.”

“Omegas breeding without being claimed. That's going to be a helluva scandal,” Derek pointed out, “What about protecting them from rape?”

“What is happening should be scandalous, not an omega's body doing what it is meant to do,” Stiles scolded him, pulling away, “I'm serious, Derek. Being claimed by Satomi was a nightmare that so many omegas face. The _wrong alpha._ What if they could leave? What if the omegas could inherit in name until their offspring were older, like I tried to do?”

“Taking the alpha's _cubs_ with them?”

“It will be incentive for the alpha to be _kind.”_ Stiles pointed out.

Derek shook his head, “I don't think it will work, but I know that set to your jaw. We'll try, my love. Write it out and I'll send the idea to my mother and uncle. We can try to change the world if it will make you sweet in my arms.”

“Alphanizing ass,” Stiles laughed, but he reached up to wrap his arms around Derek's neck and kiss him back at last, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my clever king,” Derek promised him, “Together, Stiles. You'll have your kingdom back by this time next year and we _will_ make the world a better place.”

“We'll have to be quiet,” Stiles whispered as he caressed Derek's cheek.

“While changing the world?” Derek scoffed.

“No, while you make love to me.”

Derek crooned softly. He'd been so distracted since the moment he met Stiles that he hadn't had time to _enjoy_ him. Their battle wasn't over, but it was winding down into the political parrying of those more well spoken than Derek was. His mother, Peter, and their troops of advisors would be more active from now on. By all accounts, Stiles should be as well, but his voice wouldn't be heard outside of Beacon and they were still trying to get to his castle to return it to their ownership. Things were going to be quieter, if not calmer. They'd have time for each other in between raising the cubs and winning over a country, even if it was only an hour stolen here or there.

“I have missed you so, so much,” Derek whispered, afraid to talk too loudly less the cubs wake again.

“I was only gone two hours.”

“I've missed more than your presence, Stiles,” Derek told him, eyes intense as he pulled him tightly to his body, “I've missed the closeness we should be sharing. I've missed being parents without a war and politics and a kingdom hanging over our heads. I wish you weren't so important to the world so you could just be important to _me.”_

“I wish that too, sometimes,” Stiles assured him, “But right now it's just us. Just an alpha and an omega who are bonded and in love and have some needs that _really haven't_ been attended to in a while.”

Derek chuckled, nuzzling their noses together before sealing their lips in a firm but gentle kiss. Stiles went limp in his arms, all his determination and demand for change washed away in the wake of Derek's secure grip on his slim body. They were just alpha and omega here. Sire and carrier. Two complete beings who made a greater whole. A work of art immortalized in each other's minds.

Derek laid Stiles down gently on the bed, not sure if he'd want to be taken the way they so often were. Derek's heart wasn't in it. He wanted soft and gentle, but he knew Stiles in too few ways. Would he allow it?

Graciously, it seemed. Stiles was soft sighs and catlike stretches as Derek disrobed him. Their tongues glided together in a hot, wet caress of promise. Derek probed that heat with wonder that he had this beautiful man to love. Stiles ran his hands over Derek's clothes and undid what he could reach with nimble fingers and half-lidded eyes. His content smile as Derek's shoulders and chest were revealed was soothing in ways no bartender's lust could ever have been. Derek buried his face in Stiles' shoulder to breathe in his scent and hide from those eyes that undressed him in other ways. Stiles shushed him gently and pushed him back up.

“It's okay. You can be vulnerable in front of me. I'd never think less of my alpha for being himself with me.” Stiles promised.

A drop hit Stiles' cheek. A tear. He was _crying_ while half naked and hard in a bed with his mate. Stiles didn't brush it away or laugh, he smiled up at him more and cupped his cheeks gently.

“I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. We have a werewolf's lifetime together, my wonderful mate.”

“Stiles,” Derek breathed. Derek leaned back on his knees, letting his head fall back and breathing in deep as he undid his trousers and pushed them down his thighs. The scent of his cubs nearby, the dirt and wood of the shored up chamber they were borrowing in the bunker, the nearby scent of many other humans and werewolves mingling together, food and drink and fires burning. Continued life despite devastation. “I need you.”

“I'm here. I'm here, my alpha, my love,” Stiles promised, hand moving to cup Derek's heavy orbs in one hand and roll them with long fingers, “You can have me.”

Derek let out his air and his shoulder's relaxed at last. It felt like a breath he had held for more than seconds was finally free. He moved to lay over Stiles, giving him that weight that Omega's craved. Stiles let out a soft sound of pleasure at that alone. They shifted in the bed, Derek opening him slowly and enjoying his soft mews of bliss. When he entered him it was with a firm stroke, jolting his body up a bit on the bed. Stiles grunted, hissed, and then wrapped his legs around Derek to hold him closer.

Together they undulated, pleasure and satisfaction building between them, with Stiles muffling cries with one hand as he tossed his head and trembled. His climax was building slowly and Derek was holding himself off as long as possible to enjoy their joining. It was tense, his balls aching for release, but worth every second when Stiles spilled between them with a choked off cry and tears in the corners of his eyes. He came shuddering down into a puddle of goo and Derek let his knot lock them together at last with his own groan muffled in Stiles' shoulder. He shook and trembled as he came, filling and stretching his mate's passage with his release. Stiles, fingers ran through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, the other hand gently pressing at his lower back in a comforting pressure. Finally he was drained in every way, resting across his mate who welcomed the heavy body over his own. Stiles sighed in contentment and Derek let himself fall into a deep, well-deserved slumber.

A/N I REALLY wanted to delve deep into the aconite immunity thing, but they're at WAR and in tents, not surrounded by alchemic equipment. It just seemed more reasonable to have them bandy theories around and move on. The answer is that Stiles was a fox, of course, but without a full transformation it's less obvious. Less reaction to aconite. Can't have werewolves being immune.


	38. Minecraft Castle Walkthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pt 1 short exterior castle tour  
> Pt 2 Looooong interior tour

[Short Exterior Castle Tour](https://youtu.be/sJBWY0VB7Vc)

[Castle Tour Pt 2 Extended Interior](https://youtu.be/A3SZr6t9Kgc)

[Dropping Hot "oil" on the draw bridge](https://youtu.be/rdj8kIsEEtc)

Coming Soon! I burn shit down


End file.
